


The Stanley Games

by SaxuallyActive



Series: The Stanley Games [1]
Category: Hockey RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2014-10-09
Packaged: 2017-12-13 02:19:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 43,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/818823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaxuallyActive/pseuds/SaxuallyActive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the time again this year. It's time for the 2012 Stanley Games -- the true test of strength, endurance, and teamwork. This pageant of battling to the death recruits two brave tributes from sixteen of the NHL teams each spring. Who will it be this year? And who will win?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blurred

**Author's Note:**

> Only tagged main characters.  
> Based on 2012 Playoff bracket/rosters.  
> Tribute list: [SPOILERS] http://saxuallyactive.tumblr.com/tributes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
>   
> 

_For Mariya._

Day One

 

It was the day before Philadelphia was to be reaped for the Stanley Games. The city was pumping orange and black, the devoted fans lining the streets and the bars.

In a fancy, five star hotel, Claude Giroux sat in a padded chair, a glass of alcohol in his hand. He overlooked the city below, his wrist moving the glass around in circles. He drew in a deep breath, finished the remaining drink with a gulp, and neatly set the glass on the table next to him. He sat back in his chair and combed his hair back with his fingers. His eyes searched the streets below, combing through the men and women and children. Some of them wore his number on their backs. He reached again for his glass, forgetting it was empty. He sighed at the drop or two left swimming in the bottom of the glass, and set down the glass once more.

A soft knock at the door brought Claude back to reality. He stood from the chair and stumbled away from the window, and to the door opposite of his chair. He opened the door to a tired-eyed man.

“Danny, you’re just going to make this worse on yourself.” He said softly.

“I can’t stand the silence. If I keep pacing around, my legs might fall off.”

Claude chuckled lightly at Danny Briere, and silently invited him in. He paced around in a circle before sitting on a sofa. Danny looked over at Claude, now crossing the room to collect his empty glass.

“I’m surprised you’re not with Sean.” Claude said bluntly as he poured more drink.

“He was sleeping. Did you know that he’s a snorer?” Danny gave a short laugh, and looked back at Claude, calling towards him. “Pour me a bit, would you?” Claude looked up at Danny and nodded. Danny lounged back on the sofa, putting an arm over the back of the sofa. He tilted his head back and looked at the blank ceiling. Claude walked over to him and put Danny’s drink down on the coffee table in front of him.

“How did the great players go through this?” Claude asked as he dragged his chair over to Danny’s sofa.

Danny gave a slight shrug and shook his head. “I-I don’t know, honestly. I’ve done this for ten years and I’ve felt safe about this reaping thing for the longest time. I knew I wouldn’t get chosen. Until now.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Claude cracked a smile to loosen the tension, but Danny wouldn’t fall for it. He took the glass in his hand and took a long drink from it, before setting the glass down with a soft clink.

“You hear if the rookies are all right?” Danny said after he swallowed down the drink.

“I’m worried about Sean, mostly,” Claude replied, looking down at the rug. “Schenn, eh, maybe a bit, too. But not as much. Same with Rinaldo. Sean is a good candidate for the games this year. He’s been doing so well on the ice, it is so likely for him to be chosen.”

“Same for you.” Danny whispered to himself.

Claude looked over at Danny and tilted his head. Claude took another sip of drink, his hands shaking, and nearly dropped the glass back down onto the table. Danny broke the silence when he put his feet on the table and spoke.

“No matter what happens, we’re a team. We can do this. We can make our city proud.” Danny said quickly.

Claude looked up from the rug and blinked. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll sponsor whatever bastard gets thrown into that mess. Especially you.” Claude grinned and took his drink into his hand.

Danny laughed and took a sip of his drink as well. “Hopefully it’s not you. Or me, or…anyone. This is such a cruel attraction. Even when a Penguin was being killed, I had to turn away from the screens. This game is so fatal, so pointless!”

Claude stared at Danny, and Danny lifted a brow in a silent, confused rebuttal. “Don’t say things like that. You don’t know where they’re hiding, where they’re listening!” Claude slurred loudly.

“Claude, you’re drunk,” Danny said sharply, obviously no in the mood to argue. He stood up, and reached for Claude’s glass. Claude quickly leaned forward, snagged the glass, and took in the last bit of alcohol. Danny sighed and tugged the glass away from Claude’s fingers. “You need rest. If you’re hung over tomorrow, ‘they’ won’t be happy, now would they?”

Claude sat in the chair and looked up at Danny with a sad glance.

“I don’t want to go.”

“No one does, Claude.”

“I don’t want to leave this.”

“You won’t be chosen. Now, c’mon, Claude, let’s get you some rest.”

“Why us? Why us?”

“You’re a much more stubborn ass than I remembered.”

“Can I have just a little more?”

_“Merde…”_

~~~

After a short conflict with Claude, Danny returned to the room he was sharing with Sean Couturier. Sean was still sleeping, but miscellaneous food wrappers littered his bed. Danny simply smiled and pulled off his shirt, tossing it aside onto the floor. He touched his chin and several hairs poked his fingers. He walked into the bathroom and shaved his face in silence. His hand shook, and he nicked his skin. Blood trickled from his jawline, and he took in a sharp, painful breath. He examined the wound, and reached for a paper towel to press onto his face.

He looked over his own face in the mirror, attempting to read his own emotions. He was attempting to convince himself that losing his team mates to this cruel battle was worth it. He considered simply leaving the hotel out of defiance, but what would happen to him then? Would he be forced to be a tribute in the games?

He couldn’t afford to think like that.

Danny splashed cold water onto his face and walked out into the bed room area. Sean was slowly awakening and stretching out in his bed.

“It’s no use, really, the sun’s going down soon.” Danny said as he sat on his own bed next to Sean’s.

“Mmmff? Okay.” Sean mumbled as he rolled back over and fell asleep again.

Danny sighed and held his head, his thoughts slamming against the insides of his skull. Out of the confusion, one light shone through the rest.

He leaned over to his night stand and took the framed photo of his sons in his hand. In the photo, he stood, arms open and smile wide, behind his three sons, all bearing smiles and hopeful eyes. Danny let his fingers trace over their smiles. In the back of his mind, he wished that he would’ve held his sons closer the last time he saw them. He loved his sons more than anything in the world, and he desperately wanted to see them again. He just wanted to hear their laughter and let them beat him at video games and mini sticks. He wanted to hear them cry out daddy at the top of their lungs.

Danny looked up from the photo and blinked as tears rolled down his cheeks. The window in front of him now had orange and black balloons floating past it. He tried so hard to think of a way to leave this controlled, heavily guarded hotel. But everything seemed to have a fault.

He just wanted to see them again. Even for the last time.


	2. Nightmares and Daymares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
>   
> 

Day Two

Jaromir Jagr awoke from a nightmare as the sun crawled into the room he was sharing with Scott Hartnell. Hartnell was still asleep, his fists gripping the blanket. Jagr got out of bed and went into the bathroom. He splashed cold water into his face and sighed. It was almost six in the morning. Six hours until his team would be reaped.

He went to the closet and doubled checked that his suit was there. Years and years of nearly being reaped took a toll on Jagr. He was picked once, and he brought the cup home to Pittsburgh. The games haunted him then, and they haunt him to this day.

Hartnell stirred in bed, and Jagr made it a point to be especially quiet. He moved around the room softly, and he stopped at the fridge. He opened it and pulled out a beer. He popped off the cap and sat down on the couch, drinking it silently. He sat around for an hour or so, simply drinking his beer and watching the sun rise.

Around seven, Hartnell woke up, and sat upright in his bed. He yawned and stretched his arms. Jagr looked over at him from his couch, and smiled.

“Good morning sunshine!” Jagr said with his thick accent.

“Fuck off,” Hartnell said playfully. “What time is breakfast?”

“Soon. Eight, maybe? Eh, I really don’t know,” Jagr got up and threw his bottle away, then went to the bathroom.

“Who said you could shower first?” Hartnell said from his bed.

“Hall of Fame.” Jagr winked as he shut the bathroom door.

Hartnell lay back on his bed and turned on the TV. A local news channel had a countdown timer to the reaping in the corner of the screen, and a newswoman was going over last year’s cup.

The Bruins had a fantastic story in the cup the year before. Zdeno Chara and Tim Thomas brought the cup back to Boston. They were the underdogs in the cup, overall. The reporters were betting whoever won in the east would win the cup this year. Hartnell grinned. The Flyers had a chance, at least, except the New York Rangers were seeded first in the east. The Flyers were seeded fifth in the east, with their rivals, the Pittsburgh Penguins in fourth. The Ottawa Senators were eighth, the New Jersey Devils sixth, the Washington Capitals seventh, the Florida Panthers third, and the defending champions, The Boston Bruins, were second.

Hartnell was uneasy. At least Chara and Tim Thomas were forbidden to compete again this year, since they were victors the year before.

After the two men showered and got dressed, they made their way down stairs to the lobby area of the hotel, where everyone was waiting.

Ilya Bryzgalov and Sergei Bobrovsky were talking strategy over a cup of coffee, Claude Giroux was sleeping on a couch, and Sean Couturier and Brayden Schenn were joking around with Danny Briere and Maxime Talbot. 

Jagr sighed as he looked over at Hartnell. “Here we go.”

The clock ticked to eight, and the team was hushed as a couple of guards escorted the team into a meeting room, were large amounts of food were displayed on a buffet. The team chattered amongst themselves, the older players picked on the rookies, and everyone was attempting to enjoy themselves at least one more time.

If the odds were against them, this team would be two players short by the end of this year.

Breakfast was cut a bit short when the charter busses showed up early. The team groaned, and Claude Giroux managed to steal a few rolls and hide them in his suit jacket.

The busses were expensive, with comfy seats that massaged your worries away. Though the hotel was a few miles from the Wells Fargo Centre, the team squeezed every bit of relaxation from the eerily quiet, comfy ride.

Danny Briere boarded the bus almost last, and was shoved into a seat beside Claude Giroux, who had already fallen asleep again.

“Bad night?” Danny asked.

“Shut up.” Claude replied, as he rolled his head over to look at Danny.

“Hey, c’mon.” He said softly.

“I just want this to be over so I can go home and sleep off this hangover.”

The world outside them burst with excitement, much like it had the day before. But today, fans cheered at the bus as it drove past. Many fans wore the player’s jerseys. They screamed and held up homemade signs.

Claude dozed off and drooled on the window.

When the team arrived at the arena, they calmly filed out of the bus. The air around them exploded with screams and cheers. Danny Briere calmly waved at some of the fans as he followed Courtier into the arena.

As they entered the arena, Danny put a hand on Sean’s shoulder and whispered to him, “You’ll be okay. I promise you.”

Sean looked over his shoulder and smiled. “Thanks, Danny.”

Once the team was in the arena, they went to their locker room. But instead of changing out of their suits and into their uniforms, they walked over to a large table and sat, waiting for two unlucky bastards to get a death sentence.

Soft music played in the locker room, and the team chattered quietly amongst themselves. After twenty or thirty minutes, a man’s voice came over the PA system.

“Welcome, Philadelphia!” The announcer exclaimed. He stood on a slightly elevated platform at centre ice. Two strips of carpet connected the platform to the locker rooms, one of which was filled with the Philadelphia Flyers.

Cheers came from the arena. The team all lifted their heads. Some players left their heads bowed and whispered a few prayers to themselves. Others sat in anticipation. Others simply wanted it to be over.

The announcer went over opening ceremonies; O Canada and the Star Spangled banner were played. The announcer then warned that betting for the tributes were being closed in ten minutes. Ten minutes, and the first tribute would be chosen. At this time, players could talk amongst themselves. Claude Giroux ate his rolls.

The fans milled around the ice arena, putting in last minute bets on who would be chosen. They also bought large amounts of food that would accompany them for the next fifteen or so minutes while tributes were chosen.

When ten minutes ended, the announcer called everyone back to their seats, and calmed the arena.

“Who is ready for the games?” The announcer asked the arena. The fans screamed and cheered, some held up signs with their favourite player’s name on it, hoping that they would be sent into an all star death match.

“Now, as you all must know, I will choose two tributes from this bowl,” The announcer motioned to an over sized fishbowl filled with orange strips of paper. “And they will represent Philadelphia with pride and strength!” The fans cheered again. Back in the locker room, it was still dead silent, as it had been since the announcer called everyone back to their seats. Suddenly, the arena was hushed, and the players knew why.

“And for our first tribute…” The announcer’s voice boomed through the arena. The team all sat in the locker room, and slowly, a circle was formed, where each player linked hands with another.

“…Sean Couturier!”

The rookie’s eyes filled with fear. Cheers came from the direction where the locker room connected to the arena. Sean looked petrified as he stood up from the table. The locker room was silent with shock as his eyes watered. The game guardians moved over to Sean to escort him to the ice. Danny looked across the table at Claude, who shook his head frantically at Danny. But his eyes filled with adrenaline.

“Sean, sit down.”

Sean looked at Danny with a surprised look on his face, tears milling in his eyes. The guards and the team watched Danny carefully. Danny stood up with a grave look upon his face, and Sean slowly sat down in his chair.

“Well c’mon!” He shouted at the guards. Danny’s voice echoed through the locker room. His team stared at him, and the guards moved over to Danny. They began to lead him out of the locker room when Sean suddenly got up again and ran after Danny.

“Danny, you don’t have to do this. Not for me. I can do this.”

“Sean…sit down.” Danny moved away from Sean and looked at his team mates that still remained in the locker room. They all stood and began to clap for Danny, who was suddenly pulled towards the ice. Danny was shoved into the noise of the arena. He wiped his face clean when he was released, and he strutted onto the ice.

The ice had a long strip of carpet on it, which led to centre ice, where the announcer was standing, along with two chairs, and a giant glass bowl on a pedestal. The screaming fans cheered for him so loud that he could feel his bones rattle. Danny looked around at the orange and black fans and waved, which caused more shouting and cheering. His eye caught a group of people in the audience, though.

His three sons sat beside a man in a crisp black suit, the league’s “caretaker”. The boys all were crying, reaching out for their father. Danny felt his eyes swell and his throat close. He reached out for his sons, and some girls a few rows down from his kids reached to Danny, squealing hysterically. Not only did Danny have a death sentence, but he was also a sex object as well. Danny took a seat on one of the chairs that sat on either side of the announcer. The crowd was calmed by the announcer after several moments.

“It seems that Daniel Briere has volunteered for his team mate, Sean Couturier!” The announcer shouted. The crowd cheered. “Now, now, for our second tribute…”

The announcer stuck his hand in the glass bowl and pulled out a slip of paper.

“Claude Giroux!”

~~~


	3. Platonic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In that moment, Daniel Briere’s heart skipped a beat, his breath was taken away, and he felt like his was punched in the stomach. It could’ve been anybody but Claude. Just not Claude.

The cheers and hollers in the arena turned to a silent slush in Danny’s ears. He stood up, like the first tribute traditionally would, as Claude walked out of the locker room. Danny just watched his team mate, one of his best friends, walk from the locker room with his knees shaking like he was going to collapse to the ice. When Claude met Danny, the men hugged tightly, both of them suppressing tears.

Claude pressed his lips to Danny’s ear and whispered, “We will do this. Together. As a team. I will bring home your sons’ father.” Danny hugged Claude tighter and breathed in deeply.

The two separated, and Danny’s hearing let in the cheers and hollers of the ice arena. Fans stood and cheered. The two tributes from Philadelphia sat down in their chairs on either side of the announcer, and the announcer started on the closing ceremonies. As soon as the ceremonies ended, guards took Danny and Claude into the visitor’s locker room.

The whole process seemed rushed for the two men, and they soon found themselves in two separate rooms. Last visits, is what the guards called them. The families or friends of the tributes would come and see the tribute before they were sent off. The rooms usually contained a couch or two, a table, and some chairs.

In Danny’s room, several of his team mates came in to wish him luck. Jagr stumbled in and told Danny he would sponsor him, Simmonds also came in, speaking words of advice to him, and Sean came in as well.

Sean Courturier pulled up a chair in the small room, and sat in front of Danny, who sat on the couch.

“You didn’t have to do that, Danny,” Sean said softly. “I could’ve held my own, I promise.”

Danny sighed. “I couldn’t let a rookie like you go out there on his own. That’s a cruel thing to do,” Danny reached forward and ruffled Sean’s hair. “Plus, you’re my rookie. I have to protect you.”

Sean smiled and shoved his hand away, laughing as he did so. “But your sons…you’re leaving them,”

Danny swallowed the lump in his throat. “I acted on impulse. I just saw you stand, I saw how scared you were, and I just imagined you being slaughtered by Ovechkin or Malkin on live television. That’s cruel, Sean. Better me than you.”

“Danny, tell me,” Sean leaned forward. “Would you take your volunteer back?”

Danny stared at Sean. Would he? His sons would keep their father, but this rookie would be slaughtered the first day of the games. Danny had a better chance at staying alive. He knew that. His mind battled over the question for a few seconds, and Danny folded his hands together and rested his chin upon his hands. He closed his eyes for a moment and breathed in deeply.

“No.”

The guards came in the door to take Sean away.

“I’ll look after them, Danny. I promise I will!” Sean shouted as he was dragged off by the guards. The door shut and silence engulfed the room. Danny got up, touched the door, sighed, and fell back on his couch.

The door creaked open, and Danny’s three sons ran through the door. Danny ran to them, fell to his knees, and embraced his sons. The four of them began to cry softly.

“Daddy, come back okay, _okay?_ ”

“I will. I promise.”

“Uncle Sean is taking care of us, right?”

“That caretaker was a meanie, Daddy.”

“I know. I’ll be back. I swear I will. I’ll bring the cup and Claude back.”

“We’re going to see Claude next.”

“Make sure Claude doesn’t get hurt, okay Daddy?”

“We’ll be okay, I promise.”

The family just sat on the floor and hugged and cried. A guard came in and tried to take away his sons, but the children resisted. Two more guards came in, and each took a screaming child over their shoulder.

And the door slammed shut again.

Danny was left in the floor, crying and reaching for the door. He crawled to the couch, crawled up onto it, and laid there. After a few minutes, his eyelids drooped, and the door opened again.

“Danny?” A tall man with black hair muttered into the deathly silent rom.

“Laviolette?” Danny said, sitting up on his couch.

“Peter,” Laviolette said as he sat down on a chair. “Listen, I’m your mentor. I’ll be coaching your ass as much as I can. We haven’t won the cup since the seventies. I know you and Claude can do this.”

“How, though?” Danny replied. “We’ve had the odds against for so many years.”

“The odds are in our favour now, Danny.”

“Because of me and Claude?”

“You two work together so well. You’re both strong leaders.” Laviolette replied calmly. He chewed his spearmint gum silently as he looked at Danny. “You’re a wreck, kid.”

“How’s Claude?” Danny replied, obviously avoiding the comment.

“He’s silent as hell. Kinda scares me. Usually the tributes are flashing their confidence, or crying a bit. Not silent like him.”

“He’s plotting.” Danny jokingly said.

“Not a bad idea, if you ask me.” Laviolette grinned.

The guards came in once more.

“I’ll see you again, forty-eight.” Laviolette winked at Briere, and left the room with the guards. And once more, silence engulfed the room.

After five minutes of solitude, a tall, grey-eyed brunette woman with a sketchbook under her arm strode through Danny’s doors. Danny did not recognise her, and he simply tilted his head.

“Who are you?”

“Lily Downing.” The woman held out a soft, manicured hand to Danny.

“Look, I’m not searching for a Juliet for my tragedy. So you can just….just leave. I don’t care.”

“I don’t think you understand. I’m your stylist.” Lily said softly.

“My _what?_ ” Danny laughed. “This is great. Am I a celebrity now? I can clothe myself, thank you.”

“I’m here to make you look good,” Lily said sternly. “I’m here so sponsors think you’re hot shit, and they sponsor your ass.”

Danny raised his head. “I might actually like you.”

Lily sat down beside Danny, and opened her sketchbook. The first sketch on the first page was a faceless person with an arm raised. The person wore a tight shirt, similar to an undershirt, and pants that looked similar to skinny jeans. But the person had two black, feathery wings that extended from their back.

“What’s this for?”

“The official opening parade, of course,” Lily smiled. “It’s not super tight, I promise you. It has almost a silky feel to it. And the bodysuit…I was thinking orange with black stripes.”

“I’ve gotta admit, that’s really cool. But the wings, how do they work?”

“They’ll be wired so I can control them with a remote control. So you can flutter and twitch your wings, almost as if they were apart of you.”

“But why wings?” Danny asked. “I understand the whole Flyers thing, but why?”

“Our theme this year-“ Lily began to talk with her hands. “-is about how the Flyers are stretching their wings. About how they will soar to new heights and win the cup.” She ended her explanation on a high note, and put her hands back down on her sketchbook.

“Oh,” Danny said. “I like that.”

“Good. Because we have a limo to catch.”

“Limo?”

“Yes, silly. A highly armoured limo laced with explosives. C’mon.”

~~~


	4. The Lily and the Limo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny was led to indeed a high armoured limo laced with explosives. He was shoved into the limo next to Claude Giroux, who still remained silent.

                “Hey buddy.” Danny whispered.

                “Buddy?!” Claude said somewhat excitedly. Claude grinned and Danny laughed at him. A small screen dropped from the ceiling, and an older man with dark hair appeared on the screen.

                “Hi. I am Brendan Shanahan, director of player discipline.”

                “Oh, god fucking dammit. Danny, what the hell did you do this time?” Claude asked. The two men laughed hysterically, and the video played on.

                “I am also the director of your training sessions. You will be taken to the training centre and lodging area, which are located near the arena.”

                At this point in the video, the windows turned completely black, and a wall came up between the passenger area and the driver’s area of the limo.

                “Don’t worry. This is only to deter any chances of you escaping.”

                The men looked at each other wearily.

                “Once you arrive at the training centre and lodging area, you will be taken to separate prep rooms. There, you will be prepared for your showcase, which will take place after dinner.

                “Your showcase will be your fifteen seconds of fame. You two will be expected to represent your team with whatever you bring, and whatever your stylist brings. You should have met your stylists already, but for those who haven’t,” There was a small pause, as if the next portion was edited in. “Lily Downing. Fashion graduate of Kent State University,” Lily’s smiling face appeared on the screen. Except, her hair was perfect, no blemish was shown on her pretty little face. “Marie Stark. Fashion graduate of Pennsylvania State University,” Marie’s face appeared on the screen. She was a doll with a round face, shining blue eyes, and dark brown hair.

                “What a babe.” Danny said softly.

                “Oh, you have no idea.” Claude added.

                “After your showcase, you will be interviewed in front of millions, and once that is finished, you will be directed to dinner and your sleeping quarters. Enjoy your ride, gentlemen. Depending on where you are now, your ride may last a couple hours.”

                The screen turned off and folded back up into the ceiling.

                “Well, then,” Claude said. He shifted his weight around. “Hopefully this limo is comfy.”

                “Me, too.” Danny sighed, and closed his eyes.

~~~

                Claude jabbed Danny in his shoulder, and Danny woke up, flailing.

                “Dude, you’re drooling on my shoulder.”

                Danny looked at Claude and blushed. “Oh, uhm, sorry.”

                “By the way, we’re here.”

                The two men were escorted out of the limo and through a covered walkway into the training centre by three guards. A guard reached in and pressed a button, and the doors closed. The two men were alone again.

                The two rode up in the elevator in silence, until a voice rung through the small elevator.

                “Briere, Daniel.”

                “I guess this is goodbye for a bit, probably.” Danny said as the doors opened.

                “Bye, buddy.” Claude said sadly as Danny walked out into his prep room.

                The room was large and pristinely white. A raised futon sat in the middle of the room, and three cabinets were set against the back of the room. A sink also sat in the back. Lily sat in a white armchair, and held a clipboard.

                “Hi.” Danny said awkwardly.

                Without looking up from her clipboard, Lily pointed her pen at the futon. “Go sit.”

                Danny straightened his tie, and shuffled to the futon, and sat on it. He bounced on the cushion, and concluded that the futon was mediocre in its comfort. He glanced to his left, and noticed a frosted glass door. He looked down at the floor, and noticed drains built into the concrete.

                “So…” Danny muttered, swinging his legs back and forth.

                Lily flipped a page over the back of her clipboard. She traced over the text with her pen cap. Danny sighed, and stared at the ceiling. After a moment, he spoke.

                “Are we just going to sit here in an awkward silence? Or are you just too-“

                At this moment, the door opened, and three people, in what looked like hazmat suits, came into the room. They began to quickly make work of undressing Danny.

                Even though Danny swore in French and screamed at Lily, the stylist did not move.

                Somehow, though, when the hazmat people were finished, Danny’s suit was being carried off on a hanger. Danny, however, sat on the futon, his hands covering his privates.

                The hazmat people had brought in something like a pressure washer, but for people. They urged Danny to stand, so they could clean him off.

                “I’m sure a calm, relaxing shower would do,” Danny insisted. But the hazmat people heard none of what he had to say. They pulled him off of the futon, and hosed him down. Fortunately, they squirted shampoo and conditioner onto his hair.

                After the short domestic with the hazmat people, Danny sat, soaking wet, on his futon. One of the hazmat people gave Danny a haircut and shave. Danny made no contest; he felt no need to anymore. After his shave, a hazmat person gave Danny a towel to dry off with. Danny wrapped himself in the towel and sighed as the hazmat people left.

                “You’re awfully silent.” He said, directing his voice towards Lily.

                Lily looked up from her clipboard. “You’re one of the few tributes I actually like; I don’t want to be upset when you leave.”

                “That’s no reason to be like this.” Danny turned his head to the side, away from Lily.

                “Your casual clothing should be here soon.” Lily said simply.

                The two sat in silence. Danny dried himself off with the towel, and then stood, wrapping it around his waist, before sitting. After five minutes, a hazmat person came in with a neatly folded stack of clothes. It handed the clothes to Danny, and Danny thanked it politely in French.

                Danny dressed himself, and glanced at Lily, who was still engrossed in her clipboard.

                “Do I not exist anymore?”

                “You might not.” Lily whispered.

                “I haven’t been slaughtered yet, so stop acting like I’m fucking dead.,” Danny reminded.

                Lily raised her head, and looked at Danny. Just a sad look. Lily’s watch suddenly beeped loudly, and she stood.

                “I’ll be taking you to your room.” She said, smiling. She began walking away from Danny and towards the elevator. Danny followed her.

                The two stood awkwardly in front of the elevator, and Danny turned his head to Lily. She stared at the elevator and impatiently pressed the UP button four times. Danny reached over and pushed a piece of hair behind her ear. Lily simply blinked.

                The elevator dinged and the two walked into it. Once the doors shut, Lily punched a number on the keypad and turned to Danny silently.

                “You have three sons?”

                “Yes, I do.” Danny sighed deeply, and leaned backwards onto the wall of the elevator.

                “I had a daughter.”

                “What do you mean by ‘had’?”

                “It’s nothing,” Lily said, turning to face the front of elevator. “She is supposed to be dead of a sudden attack of cancer.”

                “Supposed?”

                “What’s your favourite kind of food?”

                “Uh…” Danny thought about it for a bit. “Probably steak.”

                “Mine would have to be spaghetti.”

                “I thought you were being anti-social to avoid missing me.”

                “Yeah, well, shit happens.” Lily gently shoved Danny’s shoulder, and he shoved her back. The elevator dinged loudly, and she looked at Danny calmly.

                “I’m sorry, about anything that I do, alright?” And she left her words hanging in the air, and stepped into the room ahead of him.

                Later, he would remember this room as a minimalist’s dream. The room he stepped into could be likened to a dining room. At the back of the vast room were doors leading in different directions, possibly to a bathroom or bedroom or a living room.  

                Danny stepped forward in awe. The room was beautiful, adorned in the same orange and black that ran through his veins.

                “There’s unlimited food and drink. Spoil yourself. There’s even a hot tub in the room over there.” Lily pointed towards a random door off to the side. “If you need anything, there’s a telephone that will connect you to Lavi, me, or the room service.” Lily spun around to face Danny, and swiftly walked past him. But Danny held out a hand to stop her.

                “You can’t just leave me hanging like that.” He said softly.

                “Whatever else the apartment has to offer will be discovered by you.” Lily shifted her eyes oddly, and Danny followed her gaze. Cameras. Everywhere. Hidden in the nooks and crannies of the room. Danny smiled at Lily.

                “Alright, thank you.”

                Lily walked into the elevator, and the doors shut.

                Danny wandered around the vast apartment until he found one of the bedrooms, which contained a bed in the floor. He fell into the bed and wrapped the orange blankets around him. He was too afraid to cry, and too tired to care. He just wanted to go home.


	5. Boiling Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A half hour later, Danny was summoned out of his room for dinner. He didn’t bother to change his clothes. He simply walked out of his room in his “casual clothes”. He was escorted to the dining room, near the front of the apartment. Of course, he was last to the table. Claude and his stylist, Marie, were talking eagerly about the outfits Lily had made for the parade that night. Lily simply sat at the table, smiling and laughing at the appropriate times.

                Danny joined the table, and was welcomed by excited chatter from Claude and Marie, his stylist. Three attractive young women, donned in Flyers colours, laid fresh food on the table. Claude and Marie began to dig in immediately. Lily gingerly took a scoop of potatoes from here, a tiny sandwich from there…

                And Danny watched her every move. The tension between them began to make his skin warm, his veins thick. He wanted Lily to let him in. He let the tip of his tongue trace the edge of his lower lip as he turned to the mass amount of food in front of him.

                The elevator opened to let in Laviolette, the Flyer’s head coach, and Claude and Danny’s mentor for the games. He furiously straightened his tie and flipped a strand of short hair from his face. He lumbered over to the table, sat himself down, and poured himself a glass of wine.

                “I’m sorry, boys, and ladies…I woke up late.” He said quickly, looking from person to person at the table.

                “Oh, no, no,” Marie said softly. “It’s fine. The food was just brought in. It’s nice and fresh!” She flashed a smile, and went back to dissecting a piece of steak.

                Everyone ate. Laviolette stuffed his face with food and after a few moments, wiped off his chin and spoke.

                “You guys are going to be in the showcase in about an hour. Once dinner is done, you’re going to go get ready.”

                “We’re men, not women! I take five minutes to get ready, tops!” Claude said loudly, through a face full of food.

                “Well, we get to cram you two into body suits.” Lily said sweetly. Claude stared at her sadly.

                “Ooh, and the wings.” Marie said before taking a sip of imported wine.

                Claude looked directly across at Danny with a terrified look smear across his face.

                “I’ve seen the sketches. It’s pretty cool.” Danny said quickly.

                Claude groaned and stole Marie’s wine glass, downing whatever amount of wine was left.  Marie giggled and everyone at the table echoed her.

                The dinner was quick and short-lived once a tall blonde in a short black dress with a thick metal bracelet walked in from the elevator. She simply looked at everyone but Danny and Claude and stepped to the side, putting her arm out to gesture to the elevator. All but Danny and Claude rose, but they were dragged to the elevator by their stylists.

                The six humans crammed into the elevator, and the tall blonde pressed a button on the keypad. Danny’s eyes drifted to the keypad—every Eastern Conference team had a button, and beside each team’s button was a smiling picture of each tribute. The woman had pressed the button at the very bottom of the keypad. It was marked “PREP”.

                The elevator was quiet and awkward, especially since Danny was crammed between Claude and Lily. Claude nudged Danny gently, and Danny nudged back. _Buddy._

                The elevator came to an abrupt halt and the doors opened. It was a different dining room. It was not adorned in orange and black, but rather, gold and black.

                “Next elevator.” The blonde woman said to another blonde woman that stood in the dining room.  The woman nodded as a hairy hand held back the elevator doors.

                “We fit in this, right?” Said a thick Russian voice.

                “We’re taking the next one, _Geno._ ” A higher-pitched man’s voice echoed.

                “Oh, but why not? We friends with Flyers.” From the side of the elevator came the beast, Evgeni Malkin. The doors tried closing again, but he pushed his hand harder on the doors. “Good friends, yes Claude?”

                “Aye, fuck off.” Claude said without missing a beat.

                “So feisty. Save that for the arena. It fun.” Evgeni replied, grinning from ear to ear.

                “Next elevator, Mr. Malkin.” The other blonde said sternly.

                “I should listen, she can kick my ass.” Evgeni said, switching his glance from Claude to Danny. “So, how are your sons? They miss big papa?”

                Danny looked to his feet, then to Lily. She sighed heavily. Danny looked from Lily to Laviolette, who was shoving two pieces of spearmint gum into his mouth.

                “You know, Geno, what they say about people who insult like you?” Danny looked Evgeni in the eyes. Evgeni leaned into the elevator, waiting for Danny’s response.

                “ _They are fucking cowards. Vous ne valent rien pour moi,”_

                Evgeni lunged at Danny and the other blonde grabbed the pressure point on his neck, pulling Evgeni to the floor. The elevator doors closed at once.

                “Couldn’t think of anything better to say in French?” Claude muttered.

                “He was probably so confused by English that when I spoke French it just made him mad because he’s just that stupid.” Danny said arrogantly.

                Laviolette chuckled deeply.  The elevator became quiet for a moment more, until Claude Giroux whistled a soft melody. Danny recognised the tune, and whistled the harmony to the soft song. Laviolette stopped chewing his gum to chime in with the strum rhythm. Marie seemed to know the song and came in with the lyrics. The blonde gave up her professional act and sang along.

                _No I won’t give up—on—us—Even if the skies—get—rough—I’ve given you all—my—love—I’m still lookin’ up—still lookin’ up—_

_Ding._

The sweet symphony ended, and the first to leave the elevator was Lily. Danny was second, and he trailed her down the hall that lay before them. The hall had doorways to each side, like small cubicles. Lily walked into one after passing about six cubicles. Danny followed.

                The little cubicle just had a small table in the centre of the room with a chair. The table had a package on it, obviously Danny’s clothes.

                “Strip.” Lily said quickly.

                “Feisty.” Danny said, forcing a short laugh.

                “No, really.”

                Danny sighed and stripped down to his black boxers.

                “No, _really_.”

                “Fuck, seriously?”

                “Yup.” Lily said bluntly. Danny turned to her and dropped his boxers to the floor. He caught the waistband with his toes and flinged the article across the room. Lily rolled her eyes and poked her head out of the cubicle for a moment.

                Danny wandered to the table and pulled out the body suit from the package. The black, silky thing swam between his fingers, and he ran his thumb over an orange stripe.

                “Slight design change?”

                “I was able to get the wings to be bio-controlled.”

                “Bio-who?”

                “Put your undies on, silly.”

                Danny dipped his hand into the package and pulled out another similarly silky pair of underwear, and slipped it on, followed by attempting the body suit.  Lily wandered over to him and helped him squeeze into the suit. After a couple of gymnastics, Lily helped fix the back of Danny’s suit carefully.

                “You alright?” Lily whispered into Danny’s ear.

                “I should be,” Danny replied.

                “I’m a little worried about you.”

                “Don’t be, my dear.” Danny said softly. Lily laid her hand on Danny’s back and she planted a gentle kiss under his ear.

                “Oh, dear, I’m sorry.” An unknown voice called from the doorway. Danny and Lily spun around to find a blonde servant holding a big feathery mess and a pair of boots in her arms.

                “It’s just fine. Thank you for bringing these.” Lily said reassuringly. Lily dismissed the girl with a wave of her hand after she collected the items.

                Danny moved to retrieve the items from Lily.

                “What’s wrong?” Lily asked once more.

                “I’m in denial about this.”

                “They all are.” Lily said sharply.

                Danny felt it tugging the back of his throat before anything else. He lowered his head and let out a quiet sob.

                _Oh my god am I ever going to see my sons again?_

_Are they alright?_

_Where are my boys?_

_I miss them so might right now that I could vomit. I could and I wish I would because I can’t do this I can’t do this I can’t do this I can’t do this_

                Danny collapsed into a heap on the floor.

                _I can’t do this I can’t do this I can’t do this I can’t do this_

                Lily cupped his chin and lifted it up. Her lips move but Danny can’t hear her.

                _I cant do this I cant do this I cant do this I cant do this_

Lily pushed Danny’s hair from his face and stared into his eyes. She is trying to tell him something, but the tears keep coming.

                _Icantdothisicantdothisicantdothisicantdothisicantdothis_

“I can’t do this.” Danny slurred out.

                “Yes you can.”

                “I miss my boys.”

                “Danny, get up.”

                “N-…No. I won’t.”

                Lily grabbed Danny’s forearms and tugged him forward, sending his face into the linoleum.

                “Please.”

                Danny lifted his head and simply stood. He was too broken to try now. The system had broken him. He couldn’t fight the system. He had to fight the players.

He retrieved the boots from the table and pulled them on. He gingerly picked up the carefully constructed wings. There looked like straps on them, like a backpack, so Danny assumed as such, and pulled the wings on. He felt the touch of two petite hands fiddle with his back.

                Danny took a deep breath as he felt a strong pressure at the base of his neck. What the hell was she doing? He suddenly let out a painful gasp as a pain struck his spine. He heard the ruffle of wings in his ears.

“Hold on, dear. Let me powder your face.” Lily approached him with a soft brush and began dabbing his cheeks. She started muttering commands to his face. Close your eyes. Open. No. Close. She kept fiddling with his eyelids until she turned him free. He turned around to face the back of the room, and saw his reflection in the small mirror that was hung on the wall.

                His two great wings fluttered out from his back on response. His eyes had a hint of silver powder around them, along with a tint of black. He looked dark—he looked like a killer.

                Danny retracted his wings so that they circled around him. He was alone in his own world. He stroked his face with his wing. The soft feathers pulled him into the depth of his nightmare. He couldn’t feel a thing.

                Danny pulled the wings to his back and walked out of the room. Claude was waiting in the hall for him. Claude wore the same thing as him, down to his boots. Claude nodded to Danny awkwardly. They walked side-by-side down the hall behind their stylists.

                Words weren’t needed for them. They spoke through the angry sweat on his brow, the tear on his eyelid, the tension in his muscles, the thoughts clouding his vision.

                He wasn’t ready, and neither was he. He was stripped of what he was. It was amazing that it took him this long. He was stripped, too. The one in the purple, fuzzy cloak and the velvet crown, he too, was stripped. Along with the one that had a long, devil’s tail streamlined down his back. The one in the tuxedo was stripped, too. The nineteen-year-old with the knight’s helmet and plume, he was so stripped that he couldn’t stop the tears from falling down his face. He had to take his hand, just so the tears would lighten.

                They were all fucking stripped. They had no identity, no family, no friends.

                They were all stripped, begging for their mummies and pappies and Jesus Christ and God as they wept at night. They all heard their heartbeat in the dead of night—that was nightmare enough to startle them awake.

                These are not men.


	6. Beyond the Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the tributes all gathered with their stylists and coaches, they entered a giant warehouse where their chariots awaited. Each chariot would carry the tributes to the main circle, where they would be called up and interviewed for around fifteen minutes.

                Danny and Claude approached their orange and black chariot, being led by two black horses with orange eyes. The two tributes didn’t say anything to each other as a handler guided the chariot out of the warehouse and into the spotlight.

                When the roar of the crowd and the lights of cameras hit their faces, Danny and Claude spread their broad wings, causing more cheers to erupt from the crowd. They smiled and waved to the screaming girls leaning over the ledge of the stands.

                Danny happened to look over his shoulder at the Penguins’ chariot. Evgeni Malkin and Kris Letang looked dapper with their white-horse chariot and tuxedos. Malkin waved directly at Danny, and Letang blew him a kiss. Danny rolled his eyes and went back to waving and smiling.

                As they approached the main circle, Claude suddenly grabbed Danny’s hand. Danny looked directly at Claude, and knew exactly what was supposed to happen. They raised their linked hands and their chariot guided them to their place in the circle. The Penguins came up on their left side in the circle.

                The crowd ceased the cheering once Mr. Bettman—basically the king of the NSG—took the podium.

                “Welcome, tributes,” He announced half-heartedly. “I welcome you to the opening ceremonies of the Stanley Games,”

                Everyone cheered.

                “But, before we begin, I would like to introduce the victors from last year’s games—Zdeno Chara and Tim Thomas,”

                The crowd roared with cheers and screamed. Zdeno Chara limbered up to the podium, sporting a deep scar going from his collarbone to his eyebrow. He could barely close his eye, nor could he speak properly. Tim Thomas followed him, half limping, half dragging his left leg behind him. Tim looked like he was crippled badly in the last games—aside from his leg, he could barely move his arms, and he looked off into the distance with two foggy eyes.

                “Eh, uh, we hope you—good luck this year!” Chara slurred out. It was evident that someone had done something to his mouth; his tongue flopped between his words.

                Thomas pushed Chara aside gently. “This is no games—friends—this is a slaughter house of men! –if that is what you may be so called! Look at you—all cowering. Are you afraid? You should be you could be you will. You will rip out the hearts of nothings such as yourselves and bleed for a lost dog fight—“

                The guards finally got to Thomas and dragged him off stage. Thomas howled at the guards wildly, and Chara followed his maddened teammate carefully.

                “Now, let us begin with our first seed in the Eastern Conference—The New York Rangers!”

                The crowd erupted as Marc Staal and Henrik Lundqvist were escorted from the chariot to the stage. Their chariot was taken away from the circle via an entrance near the stage. The crowd went wild.

                Pierre McGuire asked them questions, they answered, _ding_ fifteen minutes are up, they exit the stage.

                The Bruins tributes were called up, then the Panthers, then the Penguins. The dapper duo, Evgeni Malkin and Kris Letang stepped up to the stage, and applause ensued from the audience.

                “Well, hello my Penguins,” Pierre said. _Charming._ “You two look fantastic tonight,”

                “You mean, fantastic as usual?” Kris Letang chirped. Someone from the crowd whistled loudly, and Kris bit his tongue. Evgeni dipped his head into his hands and laughed deeply, Bettman covered his mouth with his hand.

                “So, what makes you two think you’ll win it all?” Pierre asked as the crowd died down.

                “I’m a big guy, y’now? I can take down anyguy really, ‘specially Flyer,” Evgeni sputtered out. The crowd laughed, a couple people booed.

                “I think me and Geno can work really well together and pull something together, eh, we can make it far, I can promise you,” Kris finished off the answer with a slight smirk.

                Danny and Claude watched the pair of Penguins sliently. Claude’s eyes darted around Malkin’s face. _Fucking prick. I’ll fucking take you out._ Danny just gritted his teeth together nervously, his wings fluttering every couple of seconds. He looked around for his sons in the circle—but had no luck. He was getting anxious. His wings were fluttering so much that Claude had to punch Danny’s thigh. Claude wiped a drop of sweat from his brow, and he cracked his fingers. The Penguins wrapped up their interview, and it was the Flyer’s turn.

                “Danny Briere and Claude Giroux!”

                Danny blinked. He just blacked out. Claude was shoving him onto the stage. Danny fell into the leather chair that sat by Pierre. The slush occurred in his ears once more. Danny felt his vision grow foggy and black bits sliced his field of vision. Claude rested his hand on Danny’s knee for a moment.

                “Oh, my, is he alright?” Pierre pondered aloud.

                “He got food poisoning earlier—eh—he’ll be fine,” Claude stifled a laugh and everyone laughed with him. Claude had this infectious laugh that could even catch a Penguins fan’s throat. He was just a good guy to be around—especially at parties.

                “What is with the wings, if I may ask?” Pierre inquired, inspecting the wings that Giroux possessed.

                “Oh, these?” Claude stood, and turned his back to the crowd. He extended his wings proudly, and a skinny black feather popped off the wing and drifted to the ground. The crowd cheered. Claude extended his hand to Danny and pulled him to his feet. Danny, too, extended out his wings. It turns out, Lily gave Danny the bigger wings of the two.

                “My god—“ Pierre stood as well, and touched the edge of Claude’s wing. After the crowd calmed down, the tribute returned to their chairs. Pierre smoothed out his suit jacket and sat in his chair as well.

                “Before I ask you a few things, Claude… Danny, tell us about your sons. How are they?”

                The crowd fell silent at the question, and Danny’s heart raced.

                “They’re—they’re great,” Danny answered. “They’re beautiful and fantastic,”

                “You will make them proud, Danny. I can feel it,”

                “I only wish to be their father again,”

                “How did you feel volunteering for Sean Couturier?”

                “I felt like I had to. It was like watching one of my own sons being reaped. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if he got hurt,”

                “I admire your bravery, Danny,” Pierre smiled calmly, and looked to Claude. “You seem really collected, Claude. Not showing much emotion—why’s that?”

                “I’m still processing I guess—I’m not too bright,” There it goes, the infectious laugh again.

                “But what’s it like being in the amazing tribute apartments?”

                “Well, I’ve got a bed in the floor. Makes passing out a much more fun experience,” The laugh. Again. Everything about Claude Giroux is charming, hilarious.

                Danny was starting to believe that he was actually suffering from food poisoning. His stomach churned. Was it the crowd again? Or was it the fact that he’s on a glorious death parade?

                “The Philadelphia Flyers, everybody!”

                Fuck. Danny blacked out again. He stood up with Claude and gripped his hand, raising it high above their hands as they both spread their wings. They left the stage and the Devils tributes were called up.

                “Danny, are you alright?” Claude said as they were led from the stage and through a tunnel that somehow led back to the warehouse.

                “I should be. I’m so sorry, that was embarrassing.” Danny and Claude walked side-by-side back to the elevator where they came from. But they were tailed by their stylists, who removed their wings.

                The four of them entered the elevator, and, as usual, Laviolette was late into the elevator. They all crammed into the tiny area and rode up to their apartment in silence. The doors of the elevator opened and everyone rushed out, seeking the fresh air of the apartment.

                Danny was the last in the elevator, and only stepped out because the doors were closing on him. He shuffled towards Claude as Lavy wandered towards them.

                “No alcohol tonight, no staying up later than midnight, got it? We start training tomorrow. Don’t fuck this up, you two.” Lavy smiled at the end of his sentence and walked off towards his room. Claude looked at Danny and shrugged.

                “G’night, Danny.” Claude said softly. Without hesitation, Claude hugged Danny tightly. Danny, caught off guard by the gesture, gently wrapped his arms around Claude. Claude was shaking. Oh, Claude.

                “Goodnight, G.” Danny whispered. He backed out of Claude’s embrace, ruffled Claude’s hair, and stumbled off to bed.

                Claude looked around the apartment. Everyone had left him for their beds. So Claude did the same. He walked off towards his room. His room looked just like Danny’s, the bed in the floor, the orange draped all over. Claude ripped off the flesh suit and threw it across the room. The fabric caught a lamp and pulled it down to the floor. It barely made a sound. Claude walked to the bathroom that his room contained, and he fell to his knees on the floor. He needed something. Something something something. He was sick to his stomach. He felt his insides turn uneasily as he let out a soft belch. Oh god, what—

                Claude flipped over until his face was in the toilet. He was dry-heaving, just as he did the night before. He gasped for air and coughed, but found no relief. He lifted his head and stared into the glossy reflection of the toilet seat. Tears were running down his face.

                Claude’s stomach still felt upset. He dry-heaved one more time, almost screaming from the pain. He hated puking. But he had to do it. He took his index finger, and shoved it down his throat. There. He puked violently into the bowl. The heaving stopped for a moment, until he puked again. Was that blood?

                He was shaking and crying. Mostly crying. He spit out the remnants of his supper into the toilet and put his forehead on the seat. He just cried. He slammed his fist onto the seat. He whined pitifully. He raised his head and jabbed his finger into his throat again. He puked again. It burned his throat—he could feel substance float up from his stomach.

                Claude peered into the bowl. He just threw up blood.

                He pulled himself to the sink and put his lips beneath the faucet. Claude turned on the cold water and let the fluid numb his throat. He sat there for at least the next five minutes, letting all the water he could fill the void in his stomach. He felt strong enough to stand.

                Claude stood and looked at himself in the mirror. His face was pale, his eyes sunken in and red. His hair now hung around his face in a daze and stuck up in random places. A dab of blood graced his scruffy chin.

                “ _Monster…_ ” He said softly to the reflection.

                “ _Fuck you!_ ”  He screamed back.

                Claude threw his fist into the mirror. The mirror shattered into pieces, and the glass cut and bruised Claude’s knuckles. Claude inspected his new wound and wiped the back of his hand on the wall.

                “Claude?” He heard a calm voice ask. Claude stepped out of the bathroom to discover Marie standing in her nightgown in the middle of the room.

                “Marie—I’m fine. I promise.” Claude reassured.

                “You look like hell!” Marie said, panicked. She ran to Claude and stroked his cheek. “What happened, Claude?”

                “I broke the mirror.” Claude said, ashamed as hell.

                “And why did you do that?” Marie retorted.

                “I don’t know.”

                “Clean yourself up and go to bed, hun. You need rest.” She pushed a strand of hair out of Claude’s eyes. She stood and her tip toes and gave Claude a kiss on the cheek. “Goodnight.”

                Marie left the bedroom, and Giroux looked at his hand. The wound wasn’t deep, but it was deep enough to bleed quite a bit. He moved back into the bathroom and wound his hand in toilet paper.

                He paced in his bedroom and eventually fell into his bed. His heart ached. He wanted to get shit faced so badly that he could forget for a minute that he might die. He had a 3% chance of surviving. 6% if Danny stayed with him.

                “City of Brotherly Love.” He muttered as his throat tightened. He grabbed at his chest. Everything physically hurt—from his hand to his heart. He stared at the city, his hands fingering at his loose shirt. What time was it? One? Two? His eyes flicked across the blank ceiling.

                Eventually, his eyelids became heavy and Sleep held him tightly, warding away the nightmares of the life he could’ve had.


	7. Weight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Three

                Claude picked away at the slab of waffle in front of him. He stabbed the fluffy, buttery mess with his fork, squishing it into a pile of soppy dough in the middle of his plate. His right hand had been wrapped in his sleep—he had no idea how he didn’t wake up when someone was wrapping it.

                Danny sat next to Claude, and was going to town on a slab of Canadian bacon drenched in maple syrup. On a good day, Claude would’ve cackled over how stereotypical Danny was being—eh?

                The table was unusually quiet, besides the small chatter from Maria and Lily. Lavy stared deep into a cup of black coffee and rapped his fingertips against the ceramic mug. The table was quiet and concentrated for the day ahead.

                After breakfast, Claude and Danny were sent to their rooms to put on their “training clothes”—a pair of shorts and a t-shirt that resembled their hockey jerseys; logo on the front, name on the back. Both tributes had the same reaction—they were disgusted. But they obediently dressed, and met Lavy in the dining room.

                Claude, Danny, and Lavy were ushered into the elevator and their blonde elevator servant hit a button on the panel that had a “T” on it. The doors closed, and the four were silent. Claude yawned a couple seconds into the ride down.

                “Listen, don’t be big shots, leave that for the other assholes in the session.” Lavy explained. “They will pick at you and tease you. You gotta put your pride aside and focus on you. It’s like Hartsy trying to distract you during team workouts.”

                The tributes let out a soft giggle.

                The elevator dinged and the doors opened to a short hallway. Danny and Claude hesitantly walked out of the elevator, and looked back at their mentor.

                “Go on. I’ll be watching.” Lavy reassuringly said. The elevator doors shut, closing the tributes off from their safety net.

                Danny looked at Claude and shrugged. They walked down the hallway to the training room which resembled a large high school gymnasium, minus the basketball floorboards and nets. Around the room were different training stations, from swords to weights to rope-tying to archery.

                About twenty-six tributes stood, according to team seed, in a row across the gymnasium. They all stood with their hands behind their backs, looking up at a press-box like room that overlooked the gym. A few people in monkey suits paced the room, chattering with glasses of wine.

                Danny and Claude exchanged cautioned looks as they took their spots next to Kris and Evgeni. Claude made sure to reach the Penguins tributes first. He stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the brute, Evgeni. The tributes did not breathe a word to each other. They stood in silence, their eyes tilted up at the box.

                Zach Parise and Dainius Zubrus came into the training room moments after Danny and Claude took their spots. Zach and Dainius took their spots beside Danny and Claude, and whispered softly to each other.

                “We will begin once the Kings tributes arrive.” A voice boomed over a loud speaker.

                “You must be trembling.” Zach said softly towards Danny.

                “What?” Danny said to Zach. Claude tilted his head towards Danny.

                “You must be trembling, French Fry.” Zach said once more, this time, a bit louder.

                “Oh, shut up, Zach.” Claude muttered.

                “Hey, fuck you, Ginger Curls.” Zach spat out.

                “Both of you shut the fuck up.” Danny hissed.

                “ _Okay, Daddy-kins._ Is that what they used to say?”  

                Danny whipped around and hit Zach in his jaw. Danny watched as Zach toppled to the ground, blood squirting from between his plump lips. Claude grabbed Danny’s waist and held him back from Zach, who was now slowly standing up, wiping the blood from his mouth. Two guards rushed over to handle the situation as the Kings tributes walked in.

                “Someone always starts shit.” A deep, monotone voice groaned. Brendan Shanahan paced in front of the tributes, all of which stood at attention, save Danny, Zach, and Claude.

                “Well, since one rule was already violated, let’s start by announcing the other rules. Don’t fight with other tributes. You’ll have plenty of time to beat the shit out of them later. This includes chirping at other tributes.” Brendan let out another sigh and put his head in his hands. “We will have a few required exercises, but most of the training will be done on your own. It will be beneficial to you, however, to visit every station available to you.

                “Most of you will not make it through the first bloodbath. Of the other forty to fifty percent of you left, twenty percent will die from natural causes like starvation, dehydrating, or poisoning. The last thirty percent left over will be killed by your fellow tributes. So it’s best to make friends now.

                “At the end of four training days, each of you will perform for the Game Makers—“ He gestured to the box .“—and they will rate you on your performance. Any questions?”

                The tributes didn’t move. Danny was still trying to catch his breath.

                “Good. Then let’s begin.”

                The tributes moved through some simple swordsmanship and fire building. They then moved to some strength training and overall fitness. For Claude, the session went relatively quickly, even though he kept an eye on Danny throughout the session. Danny, however, felt that the session kept dragging on and on, and could only pray for it to end.

                The Devils tributes left Danny and Claude alone once the tributes could break up for individual practice. Though, Zach kept glancing at Claude. Claude, eventually fed up with his new stalker, winked and blew a kiss at Zach until he was left alone.

                Danny taught himself how to throw knives, and practiced beside Jonathan Toews. Jonny was incredibly concentrated and barely even recognized Danny’s presence at his side. Danny glanced at the Blackhawk tribute and sighed softly. Danny took one of the knives in his hand and ran his thumb down the blade.

                “These knives are pieces of shit.” Jonny groaned as he let a knife fly at a dummy target. The knife hit the dummy target on its arm.

                “I’m…sorry.” Danny said softly. Danny threw one of his knives and hit the dummy in the stomach.

                “Nice hit.”

                “Thanks.”

                The silence ensued once more and the two men just kept practicing. Jonny hit the target in the head on his sixth try, and Danny kept hitting the dummy in the stomach.

                “I’m really jealous of you, Danny.” Jonny said, almost as if he was embarrassed.

                “And why would that be?” Danny said quickly, turning to Jonny to meet his eyes.

                “You’ve got a brother with you. I wish I had Patrick here. It would make this bullshit so much easier.”

                “No, no, no,” Danny muttered, half laughing. “I wish Claude wasn’t with me. The thought of having your brother killed, or fuck—even injured—it sucks. It really does.”

                “I’d rather have someone by my side like him.”

                “To each their own, I suppose.” Danny threw a knife right between the eyes of the dummy. The knife hit the target with a resonating thud, leaving Jonny breathless.

                “Do you have any allies yet?” Jonny asked, running his thumb down the blade’s edge.

                “No, why?” Danny replied, his brow arching with curiosity.

                Jonny moved towards Danny. “If we have any sort of luck taking down the Penguins or the Rangers, we have to start an alliance.”

                Danny felt his face flush. How would Claude feel about this? Allying themselves with someone who could kill them, it was a grotesque thought to Danny. He looked at Jonny, who was inches from his face, breathing hot breath in anticipation.

                “You, me, Claude, and Viktor?”

                “Yeah, yeah.”

                “…alright.” Danny obliged.

                “Good.” Jonny responded. He placed his hand on Danny’s shoulder. “May the odds be ever in your favour.”

                Jonny strolled off, and Danny gazed back at the target, his knife still resting between the eyes.  But Danny’s vision became blurry and he blinked and turned from the target, pushing his hair back with his hand.

                Danny walked over to the water jug table and took one of the paper cups and filled it to the brim with water. He pressed the rim of the cup to his lips and downed the water. He turned around to observe the room. A couple tributes were, like Jonny, starting to form alliances. But others simply trained like they were supposed to. His eyes scanned the room for Giroux. Where the hell was he?

                Danny’s eyes found Claude with a training instructor and a dummy of an animal. Claude was being taught how to gut the dummy properly. There was a line of five tributes at that station, all of which observed Claude intently. Danny smiled and leaned against the table with the water jug on it. Jonny was right. Danny was blessed to have Claude by his side. As much as they hated to admit it—they loved each other. Born eleven years apart, but loved each other as though they were twin brothers.

                Danny felt the table pop, and suddenly, the table collapsed, sending Danny to the ground, along with the water jug, which exploded when it hit the floor. Danny sat in the pool of water and looked up from the ground. Everyone was staring at him. He felt his face grow hot, and he did what Claude would do in these situations. Danny laughed.

                Claude joined in, Jonny joined in, and so did Tyler Seguin and Jeff Carter and Pekka Rinne and Pavel Datsyuk. Eventually, the entire gym was laughing with Danny, not at him.

                As Danny stood and sported a shameless smile, he looked up to the box. Lavy stood at the window, smiling down on Danny. Danny was handed a towel to wipe himself down, and Claude came over to laugh with Danny. Once he was clean and training resumed, the smile from Danny’s face faded for a split second, but it returned as quickly as it had left.

                For the first time in his life, everyone was laughing with him, not _at_ him.


	8. Ache

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Training ended earlier than usual that day, per Danny’s water incident.

Nothing was scheduled for the rest of the day, except for private training sessions, which meant Claude and Danny could lounge around for a bit before they were called to train with Lavy.

Of course, Claude opened a bottle as soon as lunch after the full group training session was complete. Him and Danny split a bottle of _Gahnoeswot_ as they both watched the afternoon telly. They watched CNN for a while before Claude finally picked up the remote.

“Whoa, whoa, Claude—hold up.” Danny held up a hand as the telly began talking about the Stanley Games.

“But Alex, who are you most excited for this year?”

“Allison, it’s not really who you’d expect.” Alex shifted his gaze towards the camera. “Claude Giroux from the Flyers has taken my attention viciously. He’s always so composed and silent—you never know what’s coming next!”

Claude stared into the telly, and took a long swig from the bottle.

“Today at training, an insider tells me he was excelling at the survival techniques portion of the training, along with the knife skills and swordsmanship. He’s definitely my favourite. Even his partner, Danny Briere, has been doing great.”

Danny put his hand out to Claude, and Claude slipped the bottle into Danny’s palm.

“Though, there was an outburst today from the ever so passive-aggressive French-Canadian. Apparently one of the _Devils_ tributes was chirping him today, and the little man had enough and punched the tribute in the face.”

Danny took a longer swig from the bottle, and a drip of alcohol hung off of his chin.

“I heard it was Zach Parise!”

“Well, whoever it was, they got pretty messed up from the hit, and everyone is talking about it.”

“I heard he’s been struggling with being away from his family for so long.” Allison said softly, shifting her hair away from her glasses. “He does have three adolescent sons, all of which are being cared-for by the excellent Caretakers of the NHD. Beautiful, really.”

A picture of Danny and his sons faded onto the screen. _In the photo, he stood, arms open and smile wide, behind his three sons, all bearing smiles and hopeful eyes_

“Fuck this.” Danny moaned, dropping the bottle to the ground. The bottle exploded into little shards and scattered themselves across the floor. The left over alcohol that had resided in the bottle cloaked themselves in the short fibres of the industrial grey carpet, and they scattered themselves across the floor.

“Danny…” Claude said softly as he watched Danny get up and leave for his room. Danny did not acknowledge Claude at all; he didn’t even do the hair brush back thing like he usual did. Claude dipped his face into his hands, trying to completely digest what had just happened. The outside world had just directly attacked Danny without even laying a hand on him. They simply shoved his family into the public eyes—that was enough of an assault.

A quiet servant girl had appeared behind Claude, responding to the incident that had just occurred.

“Mr. Giroux?”

Claude lifted his head slightly, his tired curls falling into his eyes.

“Should I clean that up?”

“I don’t care. Do what the fuck you want to.” Claude sighed deeply and stared at the telly once more. The servant girl ran to fetch a broom and dustpan.

“This year has a great mix of tributes.” Allison said once more, pushing her glasses up her nose.

“You are definitely right, Allison.” Alex remarked. “Now let’s visit Mariya over with the odds for today. Mariya?”

Claude put his head down once more.

“Well, Henrik Lundqvist still holds the lead with impressive five-to-one odds. Though, close behind, is Tyler Seguin with a three-to-five. And, Alex, for your Flyers—“

Claude closed his eyes.

“—Claude Giroux has moved up to a five-to-two odds, from a six-to-one earlier today. I think investors found something in this golden ginger after all. And, most impressively, Danny Briere moved up from an eleven-to-one to a three-to-one spot! And their rivals, Evgeni Malkin and Kris Letang hold an eight-to-five and a nine-to-five, respectively. For a full listing of odds, please visit our website and click the ‘odds’ link on the left hand side.”

“Thank you so much, Mariya.”

Claude leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes as his vision warped. The girl swept up the glass as the telly kept rambling on about the Stanley Games. They said he would be one of the stronger ones, especially due to his “cool and collected attitude”. They claimed he would “be prepared and ready to face anything”. The only thing Claude could face is the bottom of an empty glass.

“Is there anything else I can do?” The girl asked, snapping Claude out of his trance.

Claude sighed. “No, just go on doing whatever you do.”

With that, Claude got up and went to his room. He couldn’t take the world at that moment. He wandered into his room without turning on the light, and he went into the bathroom and turned on the soft light. The mirror was replaced already. Crazy. He didn’t look himself in the eyes. He simply stared at the bottom of the sink in silence.

                In the room next door, Danny mirrored Claude. Danny had broken the lamp when he walked into his room. He had nearly torn his shirt off, it now lay in a depressed heap in the corner of the room. He had fallen to his knees and pleaded for God by tilting his head up and praying, but God couldn’t understand a word from his babbling lips, where tears rolled gracefully over his lips and down to the dried alcohol on his chin.

                But somehow he had peeled himself from the floor and wandered to the bathroom, and stared at the bottom of the sink.

                The two men suddenly felt their chests tighten. They finally felt heartache.

                One ached for love and innocence and mercy.

                The other ached for what he used to be.

                “Boys, let’s go!”

                And with that, they were strong once more.

 


	9. Ex/ploit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who has come this far. You are all fantastic and thank you a million times.  
> Also, happy birthday Allison! x

               Danny and Claude entered the training gym with their heads held high that day, and they performed effortlessly with Lavy. This time both of them, and not just Claude, were collected and calm.

               Even Lavy, too, was impressed with his boys. They moved fluidly through each exercise, accomplishing each with a great amount of strength and speed. Danny, though, found himself side-tracked when he discovered the stiff bow in a secluded part of the gym.

               “Briere, what the hell are you doing?” Lavy called to Danny.

               “I found a bow,” Danny muttered. “do you know how to shoot a bow?”

               “Bows are so fucking ancient.” Claude said, his voice raspy with fatigue.

               “Not really.” Lavy said over Claude. Lavy walked over to Danny and carefully took the bow in his hands.

               “I mean, I’ve seen how they do it in the movies. But I’m not sure how good that is.” Danny said, watching Lavy examine the silver bow.

               “By all means, go ahead and try.” Lavy said, offering the bow back to his pupil. Danny took the bow with a careful hand, and took a few arrows with him to the targets.

               Danny nocked the arrow onto his bow, and determined his dominant eye pretty quickly.  He was right eye dominant, and a right handed shooter. He raised his bow up, drew back the arrow to his chin, and breathed in carefully.

                Danny fired his arrow, and it was sent to the target, hitting it in a less-than optimal spot, but a hit none the less. Danny turned his head to Claude and Lavy, smiling proudly.

               “Keep practicing with that. I think you’re a good fit for it.” Lavy suggested, watching Danny fire his bow once more.

               Lavy took Claude over to a melee station, and gave Claude a long sword. Claude took the sword and tested the weight, and turned to violently strike a dummy in the shoulder.

               “I hate swords.” Claude groaned.

               “You’re so damn good at them, though.” Lavy said, stepping back to direct Claude to a thicker-skinned target.

               Claude approached the target, watching as his eyes transformed the dummy into Evgeni Malkin.

               “You are so scared, yeah?” Evgeni muttered. Claude watched Evgeni pace in his spot. “Come on, show me.”

               Claude began to slash at his target, and he watched as Evgeni spilled black blood onto the floor.

_“You are pathetic!”_

               Claude took Evgeni to the floor, slaughtering him with one graceful stroke to his throat. Evgeni laughed, his windpipe seeping thick, gooey black blood all over the floor. Claude felt two hands on his waist, and he was pulled from his hallucination.

               “I’m sorry,” Claude muttered. “I’m so sorry.”

               “No, Claude.” Lavy chuckled. “That was great. I think our time might almost be up. We’ll be heading back to the apartment for dinner and rest. Tomorrow is another full training day, and then the day after tomorrow is media day and the showcases. Then after that…”

               “I know, Lavy.” Claude whispered as Lavy pushed a curl from Claude’s face.

               “C’mon, boys.” Lavy said just as a soft buzzer sounded. _Time’s up._

               The three of them made their way back to the apartment, via the elevator.

               Once they arrived back in their apartment, they had the rest of night to themselves.  So Claude and Danny hung out on Danny’s bed, playing a shitty game of cards.

               “I wonder how hard it is to escape.” Claude babbled, taking a swig of vodka as he took the hand.

               “Pretty damn hard, I’m guessing,” Danny replied, sipping some wine straight from the bottle.

               “The blonde women have key cards that activate the elevators.” Claude said, drawing a few cards.

               “But we haven’t been with a woman every single time.”

               “I think for training, we don’t have one, the elevator operates itself.”

               “Are we seriously considering this?” Danny said sternly, staring at Claude.

               Claude simply shook his head and took a small sip of vodka.

               “We need to slow down and not get completely wasted tonight.” Claude said softly, twisting the cap onto his bottle as tightly as he could.

               They two sat in silence for a moment, and played the hand they were on. Claude took the hand again.

               “So, nice job today at training.” Danny spoke, taking another sip of wine.

               “Yeah, thanks.” Claude reshuffled the deck and marked down his scores.

               “You tore apart that dummy,” Danny took a hand from Claude. “I haven’t seen you so animalistic in a very long time. How’d you get in the zone like that?”

               “I just did.” Claude replied, making a beginner’s mistake, practically giving Danny the hand. “I felt the motions and movements and went for it.”

               “Are you sure about that?” Danny replied, smiling lightly.

               “Yeah.” Claude replied as Danny caught his gaze.

               “You would tell me if something was wrong, right?” Danny said, making sure to keep Claude’s gaze.

               “Of course.” Claude replied, forcing a gentle smile. “I just haven’t been sleeping.”

               “You jack off so hard that you hurt your hand?”

               “ _Pardon?_ ” Claude said, his voice hitting a high note.

               “The bandage on your hand this morning, you’d think I’d forget?” Danny laughed, offering Claude his bottle of wine. Claude just shook his head and dropped his cards in front of him.

               “I punched the mirror last night. I was just upset at everything.” Claude fidgeted with the miraculously healed scars on his hand. “It was my own damn fault. Thinking I’m invincible—what a joke.”

               Danny put his wine up on the floor. “Hey, it’s alright.” He reached forward and touched Claude’s shoulder. “We’re gonna kick ass out there, okay? We’re the Broad Street Fucking Bullies.”

               Claude gave a faint laugh in reply to Danny’s tipsy words. The laugh barrel rolled into the two friends laughing hysterically at nothing, flinging jacks and kings at each other like it was middle school again.

               A soft tap at the door brought them back to their senses. The dim lighting in the room brightened slightly, leaving a warm presence in the room. The two men looked at the door to find Lily barefoot in a pair of shorts and a sleeveless, semi-see through collared shirt. Her hair was braided off to the side, and she had a beautiful smile on her face.

               “Are you two giggly boys coming to dinner?” She jested, leaning against the door frame.

               “Only for you, _mademoiselle_.” Claude flirted, which made Danny react by shoving Claude backwards against the side of the bed. Danny whispered something that sounded like “ _branleur_ ” and turned his attention back to the woman in the doorway.

               “Well c’mon, the food’s hot, and it won’t stay that way for long.” Lily said, stepping into the room. Claude hopped up at the word “hot” and ran out into the dining area, leaving Lily and Danny alone.

               “I feel like I haven’t seen you all day, beautiful.” Danny said, approaching Lily. Without her heels, she was a few inches shorter than Danny—just enough for Danny to be just above eye level with her. Danny pushed a strand of hair out of her face, and she backed up slightly.

               “Your breath smells like shitty wine,” Lily said, making a sour face. “Next time, get the better stuff. It tastes better.”

               “It could not be as sweet as you though.” Danny muttered. He was not quite drunk, but way past tipsy. He put his hands on her hips and Lily smiled slightly, raising an eyebrow to Danny’s gesture.

               “You are so friendly when you are a bit buzzed.” Lily threw her hands on Danny’s shoulders. “Remind me to get you this way more often.”

               Danny kissed the tip of Lily’s nose, and she made barely any protest. She looked obviously disgusted at the fact he was intoxicated, but she was attracted. Danny nudged Lily’s nose with his own, which produced a soft giggle from Lily.

               “What?” Danny asked, his hands moving around her hips.

               “Nothing, nothing.” Lily replied, putting her forehead against Danny’s forehead.

               “Hehe, I’ll tickle you.” Danny threatened, pushing her head back gently.

               “ _Daniel,_ you are _drunk._ ”

               “Well, you are _beautiful_.” Danny stumbled.

               “How much wine have you had?”

               “Not enough to think this is safe.” Danny pressed his lips firmly against Lily’s lips, and she winced at the bitter taste of shitty wine on his lips, but she caved in, and found her hands cupping his face. Lily became lost in whatever they were doing, whatever they had.

               Lily found herself being carried around the room like a trophy, her ass being held up by Danny’s hands, her legs around his waist. Danny bent down to gently drop her into the bed, sober enough to guarantee that she wouldn’t fall onto a bottle. Danny followed her, and casually straddled her tiny legs. He nearly lay down onto her chest to kiss her, but she gently pushed Danny away when she felt his hand on her bare stomach.

               “Daniel, you’re too drunk for this.” She whispered, felling his fingers creep into the spaces between her fingers.

               “How am I _too drunk?_ ” Danny felt himself jumping around for thoughts at this point. Why was she denying him?

               “You’d just enjoy this more when you’re sober.” Lily replied, pushing a strand of hair from Danny’s face to behind his ear.

               “Damn.” Danny said softly. Even while a bit buzzed, he still knew his limits. He fell to the side of Lily and watched her sit up. He fumbled with a card in his hand, and flipped it over to ee the face. He smiled.

               “You know what?” He said to Lily, looking at her.

               “What?”

               Danny flipped the face of the card over to Lily. It was the Queen of Hearts.

               “You’re my Queen.” Danny said.

               Lily laughed at Danny, and the gaze that Danny held melted off of his face.

               “I’m your stylist, and you are drunk. Let’s go eat dinner.” Lily said sternly, getting out of Danny’s bed and walking out the door.

               Danny was suddenly left alone to his own devices in his room. He searched around the room on some crazy thought, searching for…

               A phone, in the corner of the room. Danny jumped up, fell flat on his face and scurried over to the phone, dialling a number as fast as he could.

 _“Hello?”_ A woman’s voice said to Danny.

               “Sylvie…” He whispered into the phone.

_“What are you doing? I thought you couldn’t call?”_

               “Same here. Sylvie…I just realized something. Please, for all—for everything I’m sorry and I love you and I wish you were because I’m scared as hell and I miss my boys. Take care of them, okay?”

_“Danny…”_

               He waited for a response. God knows how long it would take for the operators to catch on to the call.

_“I love you, too.”_

               Danny lost it. He started hysterically crying into the phone. He felt the snot welling up in his face, and felt his eyes leak across his face.

_“Danny, don’t cry. Don’t cry. It’s okay. I’ll tell the boys that you love them. I love you too, Danny. I miss you too. And I’m—“_

 

 

 

 

 

               “Sylvie?”

               Danny dropped the phone onto the receiver, and made his way across the room, stopping only for the bottle of wine in his bed. He walked out of his room and the light smacked him in the face for a moment.  He blinked the room into focus, and took a seat at the table, right between Lily and Claude.

               “You forget how to walk over here?” Claude chirped, putting mass amounts of fried chicken on his plate.

               “Kind of.” Danny smiled at everyone and dug into a platter of steak in front of him. He cut open the fresh meat and found the steak at a perfect medium. Odd, considering how that was how he loved it done. He drowned the beef in A1 sauce and put a scoop of potatoes right in the sauce. Delicious.

               “Dammit, Danny, are you _and_ Claude drunk?” Lavy said sternly, stabbing his fork into a slab of pasta.

               “Pfffft, no.” Claude covered, raising a brow at Lavy.

               “If you little shits are hung over tomorrow I swear to god your asses are mine.”

               “I only had half-ish bottle of wine.” Danny admitted, almost choking on a chunk of steak.

               “Well tomorrow is your work day, I want all you two’ve got.” Lavy commanded, sipping from a glass of red wine. “Breakfast, then group training until lunch again, then private shit later on. But we’re getting longer sessions than today. Not sure why they were so damn short. Bettman probably had a media outing.”

               The dinner party’s attention was diverted when the elevator dinged happily, and a tall brunette woman in a black pencil skirt and a white dress shirt, adorned with a TSG pin, walked out.

               “Mr. Laviolette,” She started, checking her clipboard in her hands. “Mr. Bettman would like to have you in the media room for coaching interviews.”

               “When?”

               “Now, sir.”

               “I just started fucking eating.” Lavy protested, shoving a dinner roll in his mouth. “Tell Gary to shove it.”

               “He’s instructed me to remind you of the Delta initiative.” The woman said blandly.

               “Well, fuck me.” Lavy sputtered out, covering his face with his hands. “Looks like I’ve gotta go, boys. Enjoy dinner.” With that, Lavy stood and followed the woman into the elevator.

               After the doors shut, Danny began to speak.

               “What’s the Delta initiative?”

               “Probably a coaching contract of some sort.” Marie answered, picking at a piece of ham.

               Danny shrugged it off, and ate the rest of his meal in silence. Claude babbled on drunkenly, and made obnoxious kissing faces at Marie until his plate was cleared, and he went off to his bedroom (more so skipped, but everyone pretended that he didn’t do that).

               Danny finished his meal almost right after Claude did, and he pushed his clean plate forward and looked over at Lily, who placed her fork down on her empty plate. She glanced over at Danny and smiled.

               “Yes, dear?” She asked, searching his face for emotion.

               “I’m only a little tipsy now.” Danny said. “And I still think you’re beautiful.”

               Lily blushed and shook her head at Danny. Danny reached over and took Lily’s face in one hand, and kissed her gently.

               “Oh, sorry.” Marie muttered, quickly stumbling out of her chair and out of the room.

               “God dammit, Danny.”

               “You’re not calling me Daniel anymore. That’s swell.”

               “I’m not supposed to be attracted to you.” Lily said softly as Danny kissed her again.

               “And why is that?”

               “I’m a stylist, not a whore.” She blurted out.

               “Whoa, whoa,” Danny said, obviously appalled. “If I just wanted to fuck you I would’ve stolen one of the ice girls into my room. No, Lily…” He kissed her nose. “You’re not a whore, you’re a beautiful woman and I want to prove that to you, because you obviously don’t believe me.”

               “I shouldn’t…” She whispered, kissing Danny once more.

               “But do you _want_ to?” Danny replied, letting his fingers dance on her collarbone.

               “ _Yes._ ”

               The two stood, and kissed their way back to Danny’s room, and they somehow managed to fall into his bed partially clothed. Danny straddled Lily, kissing her breast gently, making his way to her throat and her lips, making sure to treat her like a goddess. Lily kept falling in love with his face over and over again. She kept pushing his long hair back and staring into his eyes as he made quick work of both of their outfits. Danny kissed Lily one more time, before he let his face hover close to Lily’s own face.

               “Are you sure?” Danny asked again, his fingers wrapping around her waist.

               “I’ve never been so sure in my life.” Lily whispered, her hands cupping Danny’s head.

               After what felt like minutes of kissing, Danny finally consummated on a pile of cards and blankets, moving slowly and passionately with his lover. Lily pulled Danny’s face down to her neck, and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer and closer.

               Danny pulled up from Lily’s embrace for a moment, and his eyes moved to the phone in the corner of the room—except, there was no phone, only a table with a small vase on it. A vase that contained a single marigold flower whose head drooped to the side of the vase. Danny felt Lily’s fingers tug his hair, and he bent down to kiss his lover. But he made sure that he kept a careful watch on the flower, no matter how distracting Lily was.


	10. Casual Affair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Looks innocent enough, doesn't it?  
> But sometimes there are dangers involved that never meet the eye.  
> No matter where you meet a stranger, be careful if they are too friendly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some lore in this fic has been changed. I'll put it in the post-notes if y'all didn't catch it.  
> Also!!!111 THANK YOU to everyone who survived the hiatus I took. This is a shorter chapter, but I promise it will pick up very soon. I'm very sorry, life got complicated. I love you all, please enjoy. x

Day Four

 

Lily sported one of Danny’s “casual” shirts to breakfast the next morning, practically announcing that the two had slept together. Lily had nothing for breakfast but a cup of black coffee that conveniently kept leaking out onto her lips, giving her excuse to stare Danny down and lick her lips.

Danny had a glass of orange juice and a piece of untoasted bread.

Once breakfast had concluded, Danny went to his room to find a set of new training clothes sitting on his now perfectly set bed. The marigolds still sat in their vase, and Danny swore someone added a flower or two to the half dozen that were already in the vase.

“Have fun at training.” A voice called from the door as Danny pulled on the training shirt. He turned to find Lily leaning in the doorway, clutching a cup of coffee.

“I want my shirt back.” Danny whispered as he approached the doorway. He bent down to give Lily a soft kiss, but she didn’t reply with her lips. She just looked past him.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Lily said, her eyes trained on something across the room. _Probably those goddamn flowers._ Danny thought.

Lily turned away from Danny and quickly walked off to her room. Danny stood there, his eyes locking into the spot where his lover had just been. He took two steps forward and one step back.

When Danny, Claude, and Lavy got into the elevator for training, they didn’t speak to each other. Claude nudged Danny playfully, but that was the only communication between them. They simply entered training gym in an eerie silence. There was no scuffle or chirping like there had been the night before. Shanahan simply let them train around each other for their time, barely speaking a word.

Danny was glued to the bow for a while, only being disturbed by Jonny Toews’ presence. Jonny simply got a cup of water and sat on the floor by Danny. The two had this odd relationship where they could communicate as if they knew each other for years. They could explain a year in a single motion of the hand and two words. It was a strange feeling, but Danny knew it would be a beneficial one in the long run.

“You’re getting good at that, you know.” Jonny said after Danny had retrieved a handful of arrows. Jonny began to move his legs into a wide second stance on the ground, and forward folded into the space between his legs, watching as Danny readied himself for another round of shooting.

“Thank you.” Danny replied. Short and sweet. Danny felt emotionally hung over from the night before; his thoughts were a blur of pain and intimacy. His head felt heavy, and his joints felt like unoiled gears. His body felt like an old, lumbering machine. But he would have to make due.

“This is such a weird thing, but I gotta say it.” Jonny said, lifting his head up once his muscles were stretched. “It’s been hanging in the air between us and I hate it.”

Danny took a shot and turned to Jonny, lowering his bow slowly. He had no idea what he was talking about. Danny didn’t feel any sort of tension between them; all he felt was a sense of security.

“Go for it, man.”

“I’m sorry about Chris.” Jonny replied, leaving only a beat between Danny’s words and his own.

“Oh.” Danny said. He hadn’t heard that name in a long time. He closed his eyes for a moment. “You weren’t there. I don’t blame you for that.”

“I thought you would’ve held it against me.”

“Nah, I’m not a dick. I almost forgot about him.”

In the 2010 Stanley Games, Chris Pronger was left with Patrick Sharp in the last portion of the games. They were the last two, and were caught in a deadly game of cat-and-mouse. Patrick discovered Chris sipping water from his bloody hands by a pond, and stabbed him in the back.

It took five minutes for Chris to die. Patrick gripped his hand until his last breath.

For the rest of the training, Danny and Jonny barely spoke to each other. Jonny threw some knives and kept stretching his arms, complaining about how tight his muscles were.

Jonny wandered off to lift weights, and Claude meandered over to Danny, watching him fire a final set of arrows.

“Want to work on survival techniques with me?” Claude asked as Danny collected his arrows.

“Sure, man.” Danny replied, dumping the bow and arrows on a table nearby.

Claude was beyond hungover. He didn’t have sex with anyone though, which (to Danny) was a step in the right direction. Claude’s curls were unravelled around his unkempt face, and the tender skin beneath his eyes was a shiny shade of purple. Danny watched Claude fumble with a simple knot, and Danny smiled just so. Claude was so damn cute when he was hungover or sleepy. Danny loved to pick on him, and he remembered several times where he would prank Claude the day after a night of drinking. Danny felt his cheeks warm and he held in a laugh.

Danny moved his thumb over the strands in the thin piece of rope he was staring at. He couldn’t stop thinking about home. _Home_. What an odd concept.

_Yeah, this is my home. This is what we consider home now._

Danny looped the rope through itself several times and pulled it tight. He slid his finger into the loop he created, and he held the other end of the knot. The loop tightened around his finger, and Danny watched as his fingertip turned purple.

Danny let out a deep sigh and wiggled his finger loose.

~~

At the lunch break, Lavy commended Danny and Claude on their progress that morning, and offered Claude a cup of coffee for his “condition” as Danny nibbled on a peanut butter sandwich. They were still in the gym, just split up a bit as the coaches discussed strategy. Danny caught Jonny’s eye from across the gym, but his coach caught his attention and Jonny forgot that Danny existed again.

Shit, knowing Danny’s luck, he’d probably be murdered by Jonny.

Lavy went over the simple things: two more training days, then on the night of the last day, the Game Makers would judge the tributes on their skills and strength. The next day, everyone will do another interview, and be shipped off to the arena before dinner.

Claude kept trembling. Perhaps it was the caffeine entering his blood stream, or he was beyond terrified. He kept watching Danny. Danny wasn’t afraid of dying. Claude could easily kill Danny in a moment, and Danny could kiss him for it. If it were the other way around, Claude would beg Danny for mercy, for a fighting chance.

Danny had something to live for. This confused Claude, because Danny would welcome death as an old friend, but he would cry for his sons and his lover. Claude furrowed his brow at Danny as Lavy attempted to force feed Claude a ham sandwich.

Training that day concluded just in time for dinner, and the three of them made their way back up to their apartment. The elevators opened to a table set with hot food, and three servant girls stood around the table, along with Marie, smiling with her rosy cheeks.

A vase of marigolds sat upon the table.

Lily was missing.

“How was training?” Marie said, almost like she was too excited.

“It was tiring.” Claude chirped back, almost running to sit by Marie.

Danny sat alone on the other side of the table.

“Where’s Lily?” He piped up between bites of food.

“Oh!” Marie said, cleaning her mouth out with some red wine. “She’s in a _meeting._ ”

“Oh.” Danny echoed, returning to the interesting mashed potatoes that seemed to be mushed around his plate, and into his couscous. Danny poked at his steak but made no huge motion to eat it. He carefully cut a small piece off for himself, watching as the juices seeped into his mashed potatoes, turning his mashed potatoes red.

Claude nudged Marie throughout dinner, taking advantage of being around a woman for a couple more days before he was shipped to the arena. Anyone around Claude could see the light slowly fading from his eyes. He had broken his quiet and contemplating mould to enjoy himself for the while, but he was slowly erasing himself to prepare the days, the weeks ahead.

His once warm hazel eyes were slowly dulling and losing life.

~~

After dinner, Claude got the nerve to drunkenly kiss Marie with his slobbery mouth. He retreated into his room for the night, biting his lip and hoping Marie would follow. She didn’t, and rattled off some rule about not sleeping with tributes. Whatever. Claude shook it off and decided to fall into bed with his flask by his side.

That night, it was raining, and Claude smiled at the pitter-patter of raindrops on the roof. He grabbed his flask and pulled a picture off the back of it that was attached with only a piece of old scotch tape. He took the picture in his hand and unfolded it.

In the photo he had his arm around Danny, and he held up a beat up puck in the frame. It was after the game that Claude scored first NHL goal in. Claude had his big goofy smile (sans a tooth), his bright red cheeks, and his eyes were doing the thing where they get squinty when he got super happy. Danny had his mouth wide open, probably shouting something or trying to be funny. Danny’s brown eyes were wide open, and his arm was around Claude.

Claude folded the picture back up again and took a sip from his flask.

He had to stop being so pessimistic. He had to stop thinking that he was going to die. He would end up _actually_ dying that way. He had to keep fighting, and stop burying Danny alive. He’s not dead yet.

The Flyers tributes have always been relatively successful, though they hadn’t won since the seventies. Claude had always been on the other end of the games—he had been the one to hold his teammates after they watched their best friend get slaughtered on national television. He had been the one to clutch the weeping widows.

He would convince everyone that this was their year—they would finally come back with a win, a couple names etched on a silver cup filled with the cold blood of martyred men. But now he is on the other end, plagued with fear and the grave task of removing himself from all emotion. Claude had to transform himself into a murderer.

Perhaps that was why he kept burying Danny alive. Danny was weak; he had too much emotion, too much to live for. He had lovers and children and a mum and dad who gave a shit about him. Claude had nothing but his pride.

Claude took another sip from his flask and sloshed the liquid around in his mouth.

Thunder rumbled outside of Claude’s windows. Claude climbed out of his bed and approached the huge window on the far side of his room.

He watched stray businessmen skitter across the street, holding pearl white umbrellas and dodging a dirty yellow taxi. Claude had no idea what city he was in. It could’ve been Cleveland, Pittsburgh, Phoenix, Seattle, Miami, or he might still be in Philly. He looked at the twinkling tops of the skyscrapers, and he watched an office close for the night. Claude watched the world move by below his feet, and his wrist moved his flask around in circles. He could play god, but no one would watch. Claude felt his throat tighten.

Raindrops raced down the glass as the storm rolled in. A tiny bird flew around patiently, trying to find a place to land. He landed under an awning by some unmarked building below—maybe it was a Laundromat, or a nightclub, or a barber shop. God knows. A woman tripped over the curb and landed in a puddle, effectively ruining her tights, her skirt, and probably her purse. A man, perhaps a colleague, ran over to her and helped her up.

Claude turned away from the window, his heart aching for the mediocrity of a normal life.

Claude placed his flask on the fake dresser, its drawers nailed shut, and finally climbed back into bed. He clutched the shirt on his chest in his hand, trying to grab at his aching chest. He felt like the air had just been knocked out of him. He might die in a couple days. He won’t see Lavy or Bryz or Talbot or Couturier ever again.

The least God could do was let Danny be with him the entire way.

Nah, that was cruel. He could never wish that his best friend would be there as he died. He wouldn’t want to put that on Danny, Danny didn’t deserve that.

Claude decided, then, that he would die alone, that he would push Danny away from him and find death by himself. But, Claude thought, he would wait in heaven or hell for Danny, even if it took days or weeks or years. Claude wished to see Danny as an old man. Hell, he’s already an old man. Claude laughed loudly, and pulled out the picture of him and Danny again.

Claude’s laughter slowly turned into quiet sobs, and that rocked him into a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chris Pronger is now dead. Sharpy killed him in the 2010 games. wop wop.


	11. Evoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two days until the games begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting so EXCITED GUYS

Day Five

 

“You two better get shit done today. Last full day of training. Tomorrow is the showcase and media day.”

Claude and Danny sat shoulder-to-shoulder for breakfast, each of them devouring a stack of pancakes covered in syrup. They were barely listening to Lavy preach about how important today’s session was. Lavy was going to have another private session with them today. Hopefully Lavy was going to help them with hand-to-hand combat, something that the tributes had not touched on.

It was such an awkward breakfast, since it was just Danny, Claude, and Lavy. The stylists were nowhere in sight.

When Claude asked about the stylists, Lavy shrugged and took a long gulp of coffee. “Probably in some bullshit meeting.” He said half-heartedly. Danny sighed and mashed his syrup-covered pancakes with the fat part of his fork. He felt his throat tug and grasp at the tears that were welling in his eyes. Although his best friend was sitting across from him with syrup in his hair, he was missing Lily something awful. Danny could cuddle with Claude again (they tried once, when they got drunk on a bet during the 2010 games. It’s a long story that Danny wishes he forgot sometimes) but it wouldn’t be as enjoyable as cuddling with Lily. Danny scooped up his mashed pancakes and forced them down his throat.

~~

The private training session opened with Lavy teaching the boys how to take down someone successfully without putting themselves in a vulnerable spot. Claude seemed to master this task, and would chirp Danny every time he found himself on top on Danny.

“C’mon, old man. You can get one.” Claude chirped, before letting Danny push him over.

“Danny, go for it.” Lavy said, letting Danny take another turn at taking Claude down.

Danny  and Claude squared off on the mat again, and Danny took another approach that Lavy had suggested—go for Claude’s knees. Claude was already in a bad position. The way he was standing opposite of Danny, his weight was distributed badly. Danny went at Claude, and slammed into Claude’s midsection. It wasn’t his knees, but it was close enough for Danny.

Claude buckled under Danny’s weight and toppled to the floor. Danny towered over Claude and laughed. Claude’s cheeks filled with blood.

“Who’s the old man, now?”

“ _Dick._ ”

The two took a quick water break before Lavy brought them back to finish the session. The time in the gym went quickly, something that Danny and Claude were not yet used to. Claude worked on his own on some swordsmanship, and Danny watched him carefully, making sure he didn’t turn into a maniac on some poor dummy.

Claude was becoming steadier with the sword in his hands. It felt more like an extension of himself rather than a hunk of metal in his palms. He took slowly to striking the dummy. He felt a weight gradually lift off of his shoulders with each slow exercise. Claude figured, _“Why the hell not?”_ and performed a kick attack followed by a sword strike on the dummy, which only made Claude fall on his ass in the middle of the gym.

“You alright there, boy scout?” Lavy said, approaching Claude slowly.

“Yeah. Yeah. I’m just not the most graceful.”

“What happened to you unleashing some fury on the dummy?”

Claude let a beat hang in the air before speaking. He knew damn well if he said anything about it, he’d only get a sleepy look and an eye roll. So, instead, he just shrugged at Lavy.

“I don’t know, maybe it was just the day.”

“Summon up that shit again. I want to see it.”

Claude couldn’t just make himself pissed as hell; he couldn’t just _make_ himself hallucinate. His temple began to pulse. He stared at the faceless dummy.

“C’mon now.”

_“C’mon, kid.”_

Claude closed his eyes. He didn’t know who just echoed Lavy, but he was afraid to look. It was a fatherly voice, but not his father’s voice. It was too high pitched, a bit too brotherly. It was slightly raspy, a little depressed.

_“You can do this. Show him what you’re about.”_

Claude began wishing he got tipsy before the training session.

He lifted the sword and slashed at the dummy every which way. The sword stuck into the dummy on one particular hit, and Claude felt himself tugging at the sword, hoping it would slide out of the dummy.

Lavy sighed heavily, and helped Claude pull the sword out of the dummy.

“I know you can do this, Claude. Stop pussyfooting around and beat the shit out of that thing.” Lavy demanded, punching the dummy with a tense fist.

Claude just looked at Lavy for a moment, half in disbelief and half in anger.

“Don’t fucking look at me, boy scout. Beat the fuck out of that dummy or get carried out of that goddamn arena in a _fucking body bag_ for mummy and daddy to see!”

Claude let out a scream, and swung at the dummy, effectively cutting it in half. Claude stared at the dismantled dummy, his blood running hot.

“ _That’s_ what I’m talking about!”

“Fuck you, Lavy.”

_“Excuse me?”_

Claude turned to Lavy, being sure to drop the sword to the ground so that he wouldn’t slaughter Lavy with it.

“Fuck. You. _Peter._ ”

“Claude.” Danny called from at least ten feet behind Lavy.

Claude scrunched his nose up, and glared at Lavy. He turned away from his coach and walked over to the agility training obstacles just as the bell dinged for the end of the session. 

~~

Not to much surprise, Lavy did not ride up the elevator with Claude and Danny. Danny took the minute in the elevator to lay a hand on Claude’s shoulder, hopefully to calm Claude down a bit.

“You okay?” Danny whispered as the doors closed.

“Yeah, no, maybe…fuck, I don’t know.”

Danny moved closer to Claude and put his other hand on Claude’s shoulder. Danny worked his thumbs in circular motions on Claude’s muscles.

“I’m here for you, okay? You’re not leaving the arena unless you’re alive. I’ll be there with you. I’m not going to leave my best friend.”

“Maybe Lavy’s right. I’ll be carried out in a glorified body bag. I’ll sing _O Canada_ as I lay dying in a bush.”

“Claude.”

“Danny.”

“Be a little more optimistic, okay?”

“I’m trying, I really am.”

Danny put his arms around Claude, and held him in a loose embrace. Claude held onto Danny’s arms, and Danny put his head on Claude’s back.

“I love you, Danny. In some fucked up brotherly way, I love you.”

Danny laughed quietly. “Yeah, I love you too, Claude.”

_Ding._

The elevator doors rolled open and Danny dropped his arms from Claude, and Claude let out a deep breath, and sadly stepped away from Danny.

The apartment was empty, so the boys grabbed a beer each and sat their asses in front of the TV, and they watched some bullshit documentary on tornados on the Weather Channel.

During one commercial break, after watching some jackass get upset because the weather channel sucked up his favourite camera, Claude got up to grab a second beer.

“Why the hell are we even watching this?” Danny asked, motioning for Claude to get him another beer.

“Fuck if I know.” Claude replied, his words staccato.

 _“Now your local on the 8’s.”_ The TV announced, catching Danny’s attention. Was this TV seriously about to reveal the location of the game center? Claude, even, took a step towards the TV, holding the two chilled, unopened beers.

 _“Cu-r-ren-tl-ly-“_ The TV chirped, just before the lights in the apartment went out, along with the TV, leaving the boys in the dark.

“Fuck, really?” Claude said loudly. The lights flickered back on, and the TV turned on to Animal Planet, just as two cheetahs pounced out of a bush and onto two antelope.

“Today sucks.” Danny said.

“Oh, yeah, it does.” Claude walked over and handed Danny his beer.

“You feeling better?” Danny yawned, just before he took a sip of his beer.

“A little. The beer helps.” Claude laughed and took a long gulp of beer.

Danny and Claude watched the cheetahs eat one of the antelope (turns out, the other cheetah was a shitty hunter and only wounded the other antelope) in silence for a minute or two, before Danny got up, and pulled his chair closer to Claude. Claude flashed Danny a smile and offered to toast Danny. Danny put his beer bottle up to Claude’s and Claude thought of what to toast to.

“To…uh…being badasses!” Claude announced.

“To being best friends with the best man I’ve ever met!” Danny replied.

_Tink!_

The two downed a mouth full of beer, and relaxed back into their chairs. Claude watched Danny’s eyelids droop, and Danny almost dropped his beer ( _“Shit, shit, not on the carpet. Dammit, Danny.”)_ Claude placed Danny’s beer on the table as a program called _“Too Cute”_ began to air on Animal Planet.

~~

A servant girl woke Danny and Claude up several hours later for dinner, where the stylists and Lavy finally made an appearance. Claude and Danny took two seats right next to each other, while Lavy sat at the head of the table, and the stylists sat opposite of Danny and Claude.

 Dinner was boring, but pleasantly boring. The group was not interrupted by anyone, the wine was plentiful, and the lasagne was perfect. The group engaged in perfect, idle chatter. From the rain last night to the perfume Marie was wearing.  Danny kept trying to catch Lily’s gaze, but he was sure that she was ignoring him.

Danny studied Lily’s outfit, from her salmon-coloured blouse to her high-waisted skirt. Her hair was tucked behind her one ear, exposing the dull diamond earrings that she wore on her lobes. Danny sighed and faked a shit laugh at Claude’s joke about businessmen.  
                Following dinner, Danny inconspicuously followed Lily to her room, and knocked gently upon the door frame, causing her to jump and drop her phone.

“Dammit, Danny.” She said, picking up her phone and dusting it off with her hand.

“Can we talk?” Danny pleaded.

“About what?”

Danny took a seat in the plush chair by the door. Lily watched his every move.

“Us.” Danny said, his voice cracking. “Us kissing. Us having sex.”

Lily let a pause hang in the air as she wandered the room for a few moments, before walking to the door, closing it, and kicking off her shoes.

“That meeting I was in was about _you._ ”

“What about _me?_ ”

“ _’Rule 34, section b: A stylist, shall not, under any circumstances, having sexual relations with any tribute, trainer, game maker, or any other Stanley Games staff.’”_

“Oh.” Danny scratched his head as he watched Lily pour herself a glass of wine. “Are you going to get fired or what?”

“They’re not sure yet. They love my work, and they don’t want to lose me, but I had sex with you, so they’re pretty mad.” Lily sipped her red wine.

“What about the phone?”

_“Pardon?”_

“The phone that was in my room that night. I remember picking it up and Sylvie was on the line. What the hell was that? And then it just disappears, like it wasn’t there, and some prick puts flowers there?”

Lily crossed the room, making her path right in front of Danny.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know you do, just fucking tell me!” Danny screamed. H leapt from his chair and found himself towering over Lily, breathing into her face.

“I need you to back up, please.” Lily whispered calmly.

Danny obliged, taking a step back from Lily.

“ _’Rule 103, section c, number 5: Tributes, upon leaving their arena after farewells, are not to have outside contact with friends, family, or fellow team mates, through the likes of computer, physical contact, telephone, letters, or anything of this nature.’_ ”

“Damn, I didn’t know the herded sheep have death rules.”

“The rules are for order.”

Danny brought his fist down upon Lily’s wine glass, causing the glass to slip from her hand and shatter on the floor. Lily had little reaction. Danny turned from Lily and grabbed her keycard from her desk. Danny stormed out the door, but as he did, she called after him.

“You are not going to win if you act like a little bitch.”

Danny paused in mid-stride, and slammed the door behind him.

He walked through the apartment, his face hot. Claude was sitting in front of television, but barely paid him any attention. He turned towards the elevator and pressed the down button, and the doors to the elevator opened.

 _“Mr. Briere, where are you going?”_ An ice girl called.

Danny got into the elevator and slid the keycard into the elevator. The console lit up, and he hit the button for the training gym. The doors slowly closed, and Danny fell against the side of the elevator, crying out in a blind rage.

He turned away from the elevator wall to face the open doors, and he strode into the gym. He looked around at the peaceful, empty room, and nearly ran over to the weapons rack. He picked up a long sword gingerly, and paced over to a dummy, lifting his sword up and striking the dummy with a strong, fluid motion. He had cut a chunk of the dummy off, and raised his sword once more, striking the dummy in a bout of blind rage, complete with shouts of anger.

Danny had decimated the dummy, and he threw his sword across the gym, and it clattered on the floor. Danny kicked the dummy over, tears rushing down his face, screaming incomprehensible words in French.

His fit of rage ended when he heard the soft pulse of boots on the floor behind him. Danny fell to his knees and held his face in his hands, sobbing uncontrollably.

The guardsmen behind him fired a tranquilizer right into his back, and Danny was calm once more.


	12. Guerre;

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i love this chapter so damn much 

Day Six

“Wake up and get sober.”

Danny stared at the back of his eyelids for a moment, prodding at the area around him, wondering where he actually was. His eyelids fluttered open, letting in the soft sunlight of the room.

Claude rubbed his palms into his eyes and dabbed the sweat off of his forehead with a towel from his bathroom. Another nightmare of Evgeni. Claude forced his eyes open, hoping that the lids would not fall and arouse another nightmare.

Danny inhaled the plastic, artificial scent of the room—something he just now noticed. But as he noticed it, the smelled creamed into the aroma of fucking marigolds. He climbed out of bed and made his way to the dining area.

Claude touched the edge of the mirror he was staring into—the repairman was absolute rubbish, he put the mirror in crooked, and cracked the corner. Claude ran his finger tip over the sharp edge, his skin catching on the edge. Claude shook his head and smelled the fresh waffles, and he walked into the dining area.

“Get excited, boys.” Lavy said, digging into a bowl of fresh fruit.

“We’re absolutely bubbling with excitement.” Claude chirped, dumping syrup onto his waffle.

“You guys are slated to go after the Pens tributes,” Lavy began, “so make a good impression. You don’t want the Gamemakers to get bored.”

“Good luck today, boys!” Marie said loudly. The pregnant silence that followed her statement led Marie to awkwardly stand up to get more sugar.

Lily looked over at Danny from across the table. Danny shot her a disgusted glare, and Lily replied with a _“not my problem”_ shrug. Danny shook his head, and sipped from his black cup of coffee.

~~~~

The tributes were all led into a big room that resembled a locker room—minus the lockers and more benches for everyone to sit on. Most of the tributes sat in silence, while others made small talk about the breakfast they just ate. Claude smacked Danny’s trembling leg, and Danny punched Claude in the arm.

“Dude, stop shaking your fucking leg.”

“I’m fucking nervous.”

“Just go in there and pick your best exercise. Maybe the bow would be best?” Claude suddenly moved from an aggressive tone to a calmer tone, and his voice dropped to a whisper.

“Yeah, maybe.” Danny replied. “What are you doing?”

“Swords, of course.” Claude thought aloud. “Gonna beat the shit out of something.”

“Kick ass.”

The chatter in the room lulled, and a voice came over the intercom.

_“New York Rangers, Henrik Lundqvist.”_

Everyone cheered for Henrik, and he stood to walk down a hallway that supposedly led to the gym. A door sealed behind him, and chatter resumed.

Danny became nervous again once Kris Letang was called to the gym. Oh, god. What was Danny going to do? Shoot a couple arrows and leave? Danny’s chest got tight. They just called Evgeni Malkin. Was he having another blackout?

After five minutes, Claude was called to the gym. Claude stood without a word, and simply laid his hand on Danny’s shoulder before walking to the gym. Danny grabbed at Claude with his eyes, but Claude didn’t look back at him.

Claude walked into the gym with his head held high. Evgeni made a mess of the gym. OR perhaps it was Marc Staal. Whoever it was, though, dumped a basket of berries onto the floor and squashed them under their feet.

Claude looked up at the Gamemakers box, and they all looked back at him.

“Claude Giroux, Philadelphia Flyers.”

_“We know who you are, boy.”_

The Gamemakers chuckled. Claude acted like he didn’t hear the comment, and he walked to the swords station, and picked up the sword that was laying on the ground. Claude swung the sword around, trying to find out its weight. Claude kept looking up at the Gamemakers, who were staring at him.

Claude lifted the sword and eyed the dummy in front of him. Claude took a massive swing, and merely nicked the dummy. A spark of laughter came from the box. They lost interest.

Claude couldn’t let them ignore him.

Claude dragged the dummy out into the middle of the gym, right in the pile of squashed berries, sweating beading on the forehead. Claude imitated the beginning of a fencing match with the dummy. He bowed deeply to the dummy, and lifted his head up quickly, pointing his sword at the dummy.

“Idiot.”

Claude had trouble focusing his eyes on the dummy, but he felt a fire lit in his chest, and he unleashed rage upon the dummy. Claude began to see blood before his eyes, and didn’t bother to see if it was his own blood.

“Feel it, _boy?_ Are you going to kill me like this in the arena?”

 _“Shut up!”_ Claude screamed at the dummy, still releasing a flurry of attacks. Claude stuck his sword through the dummy’s chest, and Claude kicked the dummy to the ground. The dummy’s face smiled up at Claude.

“Pathetic little prick.”

Claude threw his sword at the dummy. Bits and pieces of the dummy littered the area, and Claude had a piece stuck in his hair. He looked up at the box, sweat nearly dripping into his eyes.

 _“Is this what you wanted?”_ Claude cried. _“You turned us into monsters. Fucking monsters, every last one of us.”_ Claude gripped his head, twisting his locks of hair into his white knuckles. The room was spinning. Claude felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, a hand that guided him to safety.

~~~

Danny walked into the gym and inspected whatever Claude left for him. A dummy graced the floor in bits and pieces, pieces that were covered in red berry juice. Danny assumed it was from Claude.

Danny bowed to the box, his head low. As he straightened his back, though, his eyes wander up to the Gamemakers—all their faces are paler than snow. Danny figured that he shouldn’t waste any time.

Danny picked up his bow and fires off about six arrows—all of them near the centre of the target. He laid the bow down and grabbed the knives that he barely got practice on. At this point, his hands were trembling. He threw the first knife, and it hit the target pretty head-on. He threw a second and it nearly missed the target completely. Chatter had started from the box. He had to grab their attention. He threw a knife, and it hit the target perfectly. Danny smiled, then felt the pain.

He looked down at his hand, which was gushing blood. _God no god no_ Danny gasped for air, barely comprehending the mistake he just made. Danny never did well with blood. Anytime he saw it on the ice, he’d rush for the bench and put his head between his legs.

Danny dropped to his knees and gripped his hand. He stuffed his shirt into the wound, and bit his lip. But he glanced over his shoulder to the butchered dummy after a moment. He had an idea.

Danny stood back up, his vision blackening out a bit. He made his way over to the dummy, and picked up the head with his left hand, and placed it on a table. Danny dabbed his left forefinger into his right hand’s wound, and smeared his blood onto the dummy’s head.

Once Danny was complete, he grabbed the head and turned to the box. He held the head up, and pursed his lips and tears welled in his eyes. He watched as each Gamemaker, one by one, turned their heads to Danny’s creation, their faces paling once more, their hands covered their mouths.

Danny had painted the number 20 on the dummy’s face—a grim memorial for a man who was already being forgotten in the eyes of the world.

“Forget the enemy, remember the martyr.”

Danny dropped the head, and strutted out of the gym. He had made his mark.

~~~

Later that afternoon, everyone was gathered around the television, waiting for the showcase scores. Lavy had two shots prepared—one of vodka for before Claude’s score, and one of tequila for before Danny’s score.

The tributes were scored on a scale from 1 to 16, 1 being the weakest and 16 being the strongest. If a tribute got a score of 16, they were almost guaranteed to win. To put it in perspective, Wayne Gretzky had gotten a 16 when he won the games with the Oilers.

“I just want this over with.” Claude whispered, sipping on a cheap Canadian beer.

“It’s understandable,” Marie replied, “this part of the games is always nerve wracking.”

“As opposed to when they’re reaped?” Danny snapped.

Marie pushed her hair over her shoulder and rolled her eyes nonchalantly.

_“And now we are proud to announce the 2012 Showcase scores, brought to you by Bridgestone!”_

The room became silent, and even the servants gathered around the television.

_“New York Rangers, Henrik Lundqvist…12. Marc Staal…11.”_

Chatter erupted from the small group.

_“Boston Bruins, Tyler Seguin…6. Milan Lucic…10.”_

“Seguin is fucked.” Claude said as they announced the first Panthers tribute. Everyone hushed Claude, just in time for the second tribute to be announced.

_“…Jose Theodore…9.”_

The room held its breath.

_“Pittsburgh Penguins, Kris Letang…9. Evgeni Malkin…12.”_

_Shitshitshitshitshit_

_“Philadelphia Flyers…”_

_“Claude Giroux…”_

Everyone watched Claude begin to tremble. Lavy downed his shot of vodka.

_“…12.”_

The room cheered, Marie planted a kiss on Claude’s cheek. Claude grinned from ear to ear. But Danny, however, did not move a muscle.

_“Daniel Briere…”_

Danny put his head down and put his hand to his lips. A medic had stitched his hand together after the showcase, and called for Danny to come back later for “more observation”. Lavy swallowed the tequila hard.

_“…13.”_

The room screamed. Incredible.

Danny lifted his head. “Holy shit.” He whispered. “Holy fuckin’ shit.”

“Danny, what did you do?” Lily asked.

“I…” Danny began. “I shot some arrows and they started ignoring me, so I threw knives and ended up cutting my hand open. I rubbed my blood on the dummy’s face, and wrote out the number twenty. For Chris.”

“God dammit Danny.” Lavy said, burying his face in his hands. “I swear to god they marked you this year. Fuck _me._ ”

 _“What?”_ Claude said, standing over to tower over Danny. “I beat the shit out of a dummy. You saw the remains, Danny. What the hell is this?”

 _“Marked:”_ Lily began. _“when the Dynasty gives a single tribute the number 13, and no one else, in attempts to send a warning to the tribute, who may be acting in defiance to the games, or the Dynasty itself.”_

“Fucking _fuck,_ Danny.” Claude barked.

“Your tribute to Chris was probably the worst bullshit you could’ve pulled.”

“They might just be keeping an eye on you.” Lily muttered, almost tripping on her words and saying _“us”_ instead of _“you”._

_“New Jersey Devils, Dainius Zubrus…14. Zach Parise…14.”_

The room grew silent again as the scores kept getting announced. Claude calmed down and sat in his armchair. Danny fingered gently at his new stitches in his hand.

The highest score of the Showcase came from Jeff Carter, who raked in a beautiful 15. After  the program concluded, Pierre McGuire began spouting off comments about this year’s games, talking about Danny’s elusive 13, before he was cut off mid-sentence to talk about how to sponsor a tribute.

“You’re definitely marked.” Lily said softly.

Danny stood up from his armchair and walked over to the fridge and got a beer. But as he walked back, he was stopped by a servant girl.

“I could’ve gotten that for you, sir.”

Danny turned to face the girl. Up until now, he didn’t pay much attention to the servants. But this girl was only a little bit shorter than him, and had long, dark-red hair that hung lower than her breast. Her delicate facial features weren’t unique; it was as if she had the most average, boring face of every girl in Philly. She looked to be only seventeen or eighteen, her hands clasped in front of her, her eyes locked in a staring contest with the carpeting.

Danny took a step towards her and pushed her chin up with his forefinger.

“I can grab my own, thanks.” Danny said compassionately. “I’ll be a normal man for one more night.”

“Yes sir.” The girl said. Danny looked into her eyes, which were a mosaic of green and blue. Danny smiled at her, and moved his hand from her face. She shuffled out of the room and out of sight. Danny popped the cap off of his beer and sat back down with his crew.

Everyone chattered as if they were watching a Saturday afternoon hockey game.

Normalcy.

Once the program ended midway through the afternoon, Lavy strongly suggested that the boys get plenty of rest, and lay off the beer. Claude didn’t want to compromise.  Danny rolled his eyes and stomped off to his room.

Claude hovered around the kitchen for a while, eating whatever he found in sight. He knew he wouldn’t get anything but a squirrel or a handful of berries in the arena. He made himself four grilled cheese sandwiches, ate a bag of family-sized Lay’s potato chips, and finished off the ensemble with a small can of beer.

Claude headed off to his room to nap, and once he closed his door, he found himself immersed in silence. He began to hear his heartbeat in his ears, which was becoming faster and louder by the second. He ran to the bathroom and fell down to the toilet, waiting for the gag of acid up his throat.

Claude, instead, found himself gagging on air. He began to breathe deeply, and put his forehead on the rim of the toilet.

 _“Fuck me.”_ Claude whispered, covering his head with his arms. His head was starting to slow down. He began to find peace.

~~~

Danny laid in bed with a bottle of wine, and stared at the ceiling as he hummed a soft song. He sat up, took a mouthful of wine, swallowed, and laid back down.

A knock at the door made Danny alert, and he sat up slowly to find Lily standing at the foot of his bed.

“Red wine?” Lily asked, kicking off her shoes.

“I’m feeling frisky.” Danny replied, looking over Lily’s jeans and long tank top.

“Can I stay in here for a little?” Lily whispered.

“You’ll get in trouble.”

“I don’t give a _shit_.” Lily replied as she sat down beside Danny’s bed.  She lifted his hand gently and examined the numerous stitches that lined his palm.

“I’m sure you don’t.” Danny said, pulling his hand away from Lily.

“Danny…”

“Don’t fuck with my head,” Danny began, pain appearing in his eyes. “How _dare_ you tempt a dying man with love then recant it as quickly as it appeared. Lily Downing…you are _foul_.”

Lily lowered her head and shut her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you, now?” Danny hissed. “I got my ass tranquilised over you and you have is that ‘you’re sorry’? I actually thought for a fucking second you’d be my boy’s step-mother. But you’re bitter…you’re a bitter, manipulative girl. I wish I could’ve seen that sooner, so I didn’t have to go into the arena with a broken conscience.”

“I wanted to protect…myself—“

_“No shit.”_

“Please, Daniel.” Lily pleaded. “I didn’t want to get killed over you. I don’t know if you’re coming out of there alive. Since you’ve been marked there’s a good chance I’ll be executed, and Lavy will probably be expelled from the Dynasty.”

“Too damn late to do anything.”

“Yeah.”

“Just leave.” Danny urged.

“You won’t see me after tomorrow.” Lily murmured, laying down on the floor right beside Danny’s bed.

“How is that supposed to help me?”

“Because I know how fast your heart must be racing right now, you’re probably getting tipsy, and you’ve a mess of emotion.”

Danny reached up towards Lily and pulled her down into his bed.

“I just want a body beside me. This means nothing between us.” Danny punctuated.

“I’m sure.” Lily spoke softly, subtly calling out Danny’s bullshit.

Danny put the wine in the floor, and wrapped his arms around Lily, and put his chin on the top of her head.

“I don’t want to go.” Danny breathed.

“I know you don’t.”

Silence grew between them as Lily slowly wrapped her arms around Danny.

“What time is it?” Danny inquired.

“Six something-or-other.” Lily replied back, her voice drifting into the air.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“You’re warm.”

“Thanks, Danny.”

Danny buried his face into Lily’s hair, and his wandering thoughts began to be herded in. He tightened his arms around Lily, and she replied with her arms tightening around him. Danny found a smile upon his face. His head was starting to slow down. He began to find peace.


	13. The Sound of Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all bitches gonna need Google Translate.  
> Also, there are references to suicide. Just to let you know.  
> Added a paragraph that will clarify some events in the next chapter(s) 12/27/13  
> 

Day Seven

Danny woke up with his arms still around Lily and with the stitches out of his hand. He pressed his nose into Lily’s hair and breathed her in. She was still sleeping like a baby, and Danny gently woke her up with a kiss to the forehead and by gently shaking her.

“Mmm…” Lily murmured.

“Wake up.” Danny whispered as he rolled her out of his arms.

“What time is it?” Lily wondered.

Danny let his eyes wander up the wall. “It’s almost seven.”

“They serve breakfast at seven…we should be heading to the arena around nine.” Lily rambled.

Danny pushed a long strand of Lily’s hair behind her ear. Lily returned a sleepy smile and looked into Danny’s eyes.

“Let’s just _stay_ here.” Lily said, sitting up slowly.

“I wish.” Danny whispered, tears tugging at his dry throat. Lily climbed out of the bed, gesturing for Danny to follow.

Danny obliged, and followed Lily to the dining area. Claude was the first at the table, with dark circles under his eyes. A cup of black coffee sat in front of him, while plates of food were hot on the table.  

“Claude,” Danny said softly. “Eat up, this might be the last chance you get for a while.”

“I’ll throw it up.”

“Please, hun.” Danny pleaded, sitting beside Claude.

Claude looked at Danny. Claude knew Danny was beside him, but Claude felt so damn alone. He was lost and scared, fishing for Danny’s security. All Claude wanted was a pair of arms to hold him together.

“Okay.” Claude said, reaching for a waffle.

“Thanks, Claude.” Danny added, reaching for Claude’s shoulder. Danny put his hand on Claude’s shoulder and massaged it momentarily with his fingertips. Claude looked over at Danny and gave him a quick smile before devouring a waffle.

Lavy and Marie showed up five minutes later, and the crew continued to eat in silence, until Lavy spoke up.

“Now, boys,” Lavy began. “Don’t head towards the cornucopia, the big pile of resources, at the opening bell. It’ll be a fucking massacre. Easily ten tributes will die in that blood bath. Save your skin and get the hell out of there. You can return to the cornucopia a few hours after the bell.

“Don’t, for the love of _god_ , don’t drink salt water. You’ll get sick as hell. And watch the berries. Only eat the ones you know. If they’re bright coloured, they’re probably poison.”

“Were you ever in the games?” Danny pondered aloud between bites.

Lavy fell quiet.  He placed his fork on the table.

“I was reaped for the Rangers in 1989, but this goon named Brian Leetch volunteered for me. Idiot got slaughtered by a Penguins goon.” Lavy took a deep breath. “Last thing he ever said to me was, _‘Pete, sit down.’_ when my name got called.”

Everyone was hushed, especially Danny. Danny put his face in his hands, and began to cry softly.

“Hon—Danny, what…” Claude began.

“I said that to Sean.” Danny squeaked out. “I fucking…”

“You’re okay.” Claude assured. “Eat a waffle, you old man.”

Danny couldn’t help but laugh as Claude put a waffle on Danny’s plate, and dumped syrup over the waffle. Claude then stuck a fork into the waffle, and sat back in his chair, looking impressed with himself.

“Dammit, Claude,” Danny laughed. “I love you.”

Claude just grinned from ear-to-ear and kept on eating.

As the time edged towards nine, the chatter around the table grew. They talked about the games, about life, and about love, as if their time was unlimited, as if the games never existed.

Claude and Danny joked at each other, and Lavy laughed at his boys. Lily and Marie simply watched the pair of tributes make complete asses of themselves.

“Shit, you remember that one time when I left up the seat and Cam fell in?”

“Oh, fuck.” Danny cried. “That was at like, one in the morning.”

“ _Daaad_ ,” Claude imitated. “ _Daddy, I…I fell in the toilet._ ” Claude switched to imitate Danny. “ _Claude! Claude, why the_ hell _did you leave the god damn toilet seat up?_ ” And Claude switched to his own voice. “Iunno, Danny.” “ _Dammit, Claude, put the fucking seat down._ ” “Sorry, Dad.”

“Fuck you, Claude.” Danny shouted, wiping tears from his eyes as he laughed.

 “Damn…” Lavy said, wiping tears from his eyes as well. “I can’t wait till you two come back.”

“Me either.” Marie giggled, looking at Claude.

The elevator opened up. It was time to go.

The crew filed into the elevator. They became very quiet once more. The doors closed silently, and the blonde elevator operator gently pressed the buttons to lead the crew to the “BH” floor, whatever that may be.

The elevator buzzed and Lavy began to speak.

“Keep your heads up, both of you got great scores. You’ll be fine. When we get down to the hangar, you will be escorted into an aircraft that will take you to the arena itself. While on the aircraft, you’ll be injected with a tracker in your arm. Kick some ass, a’ight, boys?”

“Yeah, coach.” Claude and Danny echoed.

The doors opened up to the hangar, and the tributes were led to the aircraft.

Danny and Claude sat next to each other in the aircraft, and a young woman approached them with a syringe. She put out her hand to Claude, and Claude glared at her. But the woman grabbed his arm and forcefully injected the tracker into his forearm, leaving a dot on blood on his skin. Danny, however, held his arm out for the woman, but she was still as forceful with Danny. A second woman came by and strapped the tributes into their seats.

Claude rubbed his forearm and looked around the aircraft. The Kings tributes were getting onto the aircraft, they looked like they were the last ones. Claude locked eyes with several of the tributes.

_I’m going to kill some of you._

Claude felt a stare from across the aircraft, but made sure to ignore it.

Claude’s leg began to bounce on the floor of the aircraft, and his hands trembled. Danny moved a cautious hand to Claude’s thigh, and gently rubbed his tight muscle.

“Danny…” Claude whispered, looking around the aircraft cautiously.

“If they have a fucking issue, they can kiss my ass.” Danny replied, patting Claude’s thigh gently. Claude smiled as the doors to the aircraft closed, and the aircraft began to take off.

The trip felt like seconds, though Claude knew it was a good twenty minutes. Chatter was sparked on the aircraft, and small conversations echoed between the tense bodies.

Because, after all, that’s what they have been transformed into.

The preparation of the week, from the interviews to the training sessions, the stylists who broke their hearts—it made all the men on that aircraft heartless. It could be said that these men no longer held a soul—that the dynasty had consumed the essence of their living.

 _Raison d’être_ is what they would call it. Reason for existence. The connotation that this phrase carried was beyond anything that English words could produce. Claude watched Danny close his eyes and breathe deeply, hoping to calm himself down.

 _“Raison d’être.”_ Claude produced in a hushed voice.

_“Pardon?”_

“Yeah…” Claude said, almost ashamed of what he was about to repeat. _“_ _Vous êtes_ _ma_ _raison d'être._ _”_

Danny smiled, and patted Claude’s thigh once more.

_“Merci, mon cher.”_

Claude blushed and sighed. _“Vous_ _êtes_ _mon meilleur ami, Danny. Merci pour tout._ _”_

 _“Claude, vous êtes ma lumière.”_ Danny said smoothly. _“Vous havre m'a donné beaucoup de force. Merci, merci, merci.”_

Danny ruffled Claude’s hair.

“I should’ve spoke more French.” Claude admitted.

“I’ll speak volumes of French with you when we’re done here.” Danny said.

The doors to the aircraft opened, and each tribute’s stylist comes onto the aircraft and retrieves their tribute, one-by-one.

Marie walked on and unstrapped Claude from his seat, and took his hand, guiding him off the aircraft.

 _“Bonne chance, mon cher.”_ Claude finished off his sentence with a wink to Danny, and Danny simply smiled.

 _“_ _Vous_ _également…_ _”_

A moment later, Lily walked onto the aircraft. Without breaking eye contact with Danny, she unstrapped him from his seat, and took his hand to guide him off of the aircraft.

They had landed in a warehouse of sorts, Danny figures. Lily led him to another elevator, and a blonde woman pressed a Flyers logo button on the control panel.

Danny squeezed Lily’s hand tightly, and she squeezed back. The elevator doors opened again, and Danny realized that he could hear his heart beat in his ears. Lily guided Danny out of the elevator, and they turned down a hallway, and arrive at a door, guarded by two tall guards.

The door slides open, and Lily tugged Danny into the small room.

The room was tiny. It was only big enough for a loveseat and a tube that it big enough to fit one human into. Danny guessed that it was the infamous “launch tube”.

Lily grabbed a package and gave it to Danny. Inside was the uniform for the arena. It was black, and had a small Flyers logo on the shoulders. Danny stripped down and pulled the uniform on. He looked himself over in the mirror, and a tear fell from his eye.

“Daniel, come sit.” Lily whispered.

Danny blinked. It was the first time she had called him Daniel.

Danny sat down beside Lily on the loveseat, and took her face in his hands. He didn’t give a shit if he was marked. Danny kissed Lily passionately, without any restraint. Lily moved her hand to his chest, and kissed him back.

Between the kisses that developed between them, Danny managed to say “I love you” in one of the languages he knew, and Lily replied back in English. “I love you too.”

Tears developed in the lover’s eyes, and Lily eventually pulled from the embrace to breathe, and she rested her forehead upon Danny’s forehead.

“I believe in you, Danny B.” Lily whispered.

“Can you do something for me, if I never come back?”

“Anything.”

 _“Please prepare to board your launch tubes.”_ An artificial voice announced.

“Tell my sons that I love them, okay? Please?” Danny pleaded.

“I will.” Lily promised. The lovers stood from the small couch and Danny kept sneaking in kisses as Lily led him to the launch tube.

_“One minute. Please board your launch tubes.”_

Danny was going to puke. His knees were wobbly; his heart was racing faster than ever.

Danny stepped into the tube.

He grabbed for Lily one last time, one last kiss.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Lily.” Danny cried out, his voice choking on pain.

_“Prepare for launch.”_

“Danny—“

A soundproof glass door slid in front of Danny, silencing him from Lily. He was watching her lips move, and he put his hands on the glass. She was talking so fast that he couldn’t read her lips. Lily placed her hands where Danny’s hands were, and her beautiful face turned into a runny mess of mascara and foundation—the fake face she was required to put on. Danny put his forehead against the glass.

He should’ve hung himself the night before, like he intended to.

He was lying in bed, waiting for the wine bottle to empty into his mouth. He knew exactly what he was going to use. He knew exactly how to tie the noose. He had figured it out in training, when he slipped his finger into the accidental noose he had made.

_Fuck._

His chest tightened. Maybe he would have a heart attack in the tube and die. He would die by accident, not by another man’s hand.

Danny lifted his head from the glass and stared at Lily. She was done speaking.

 _“_ _Vous êtes_ _ma_ _raison d'être._ _”_

**He lied.**

An odd, mechanical noise erupted from below him, and he was lifted from the room to the arena.

Once he reached the surface, a clock was ticking down to zero.

Thirty. Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight…

His eyes darted around the arena. It was lush and green, like a forest from Quebec. He looked around at the tributes, and his eyes locked onto Claude.  Claude looked into Danny’s eyes and touched his chest. Danny didn’t understand what this motion meant, but he replied with the same gesture, by raising his trembling hand to his aching heart. Claude smiled at Danny and mouthed, “Team.” Danny replied back, “Team.”

A solid bell rang out in the forest.

And the massacre began.


	14. Child's Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ich liebe dich! Thank you so much for surviving the hiatus. :)  
> Enjoy! Also, there is a lot of gore in this one.

The Games – Day One

Danny’s ears rang as he watched 31 men sprint for the cornucopia surrounded by a pond in front of him. He watched the massacre run its course in silence. He watched his brothers and his friends slaughter each other.

Mike Richards of the Kings took down Daniel Sedin in a matter of seconds, grabbed equipment, and screamed for his team mate, Jeff Carter, to flee the bloodbath. Paul Bissonette tackled Viktor Stalberg as a horrified Jonny Toews looked on. Jonny pulled Paul off of Viktor, and nailed Paul in the jaw with a punch. Paul reeled back, spitting out blood and teeth. But the Blackhawks tributes quickly grabbed two supply packs, a sword, and a pack of throwing knives and fled.

Claude grabbed Danny’s shoulder and shook him hard.

“Danny, c’mon, we have to fucking run!” Claude screamed.

Danny took one more look at the cornucopia. No one was touching the bow. Danny sprinted for the bow, weaving in and out of brawls. Danny barely stopped as he grabbed the bow and a supply pack. As he turned around, though, he dodged a sword from a rookie. Danny kicked the kid in the chest, and the kid fell backwards into the pond. Danny’s eyes drifted to the kid’s shoulder. Senators. The kid’s face was covered in blood and god knows what else. Danny felt every muscle in his body tense.

The kid looked like his son. The wavy, black hair that hung in his warm brown eyes captivated Danny. The blood drained from the kid’s warm, round cheeks. Danny suddenly saw every Christmas morning, every boo-boo in the park, every smile and every cheer that he had ever heard…

Danny was brought back to reality when an axe split the kid’s head open.

Danny gagged on his own air as he watched the pond turn red. The blood moved through the water like a child’s paintbrush in a cup of water. He sprinted for Claude, who was holding his hand out for Danny. Danny grabbed Claude’s hand, and the pair ran off into the forest.

“You _idiot_!” Claude sneered. “Henrik almost fucking destroyed you!”

“I’m _sorry,_ Claude.” Danny felt his fingers slipping through Claude’s fingers, and Danny quickened his running.

In the distance, three cannons were shot off. The men slowed down and caught their breath, and Danny approached Claude. Danny took a look at Claude’s face, and groaned.

“What?” Claude said.

“Your face is a mess.” Danny replied. It was true. Claude’s nose was bleeding, and his brow and lip were both split open. Danny stepped towards Claude and touched his wounds, and Claude recoiled instantly.

“Eh. Just a face.” Claude laughed. “Geno tried to claw my face off.”

“Did you grab anything from the cornucopia?” Danny replied, sitting down on a rock to inspect the supply pack he picked up.

“Just a sword and a bag. You?”

“Bow and a bag.” Danny unzipped his pack. There was a canteen, bandages, dried fruit, and a fire starter. Claude opened his bag and found a canteen, jerky, rope, and a grenade.

“Grenade, really?” Claude laughed. “This might be a little handy.” Claude opened the canteen and found it empty, and Claude moaned in contempt. Claude snatched Danny’s canteen and opened it as well, finding it dry.

Danny eyed the rope, and slowly stood from his rock.

“We gotta keep moving, we can’t be sitting Ducks.” Danny announced.

“Hah, Ducks!” Claude joked.

~~

After two hours, they sat down upon a fallen tree trunk at the base of a cliff. The two saw no one in the forest for a few miles, but they heard a cannon being fired in the distance just as the sky started to dim. The bright and sunny sky was beginning to turn cloudy. Claude held his head in his hands, lightheaded from lack of water.

“We’ll find something. Or someone. I promise you,” Danny said softly as Claude slowly raised his head.

“I’m so fucking thirsty.” Claude whispered.

In the distance, two voices echoed through the trees. Whoever they were, they were close to Danny and Claude. The two men looked at each other, and Danny searched the wood for some kind of cover. Danny wrapped his arms around Claude, and the two toppled backwards into a shallow ditch.

“Haha, oh the look on his face!”

“Your axe really put the icing on the cake, Henrik.”

“Too bad I didn’t hit Briere.”

Henrik Lundqvist and Marc Staal walked ten feet away from the men, chatting away idly about the rookie Henrik murdered hours ago. Claude twitched with fury, but Danny laid a hand on his arm. Claude closed his eyes and took a deep, silent breath.

“That spring is two miles north of here, right?”

“That’s what Luongo said.” Henrik said smoothly. The pair stopped in the small clearing where Danny and Claude just were.

“I swear I’ll rip his head off if he lied.” Marc snapped.

“Just feed him to Mike Richards.” Henrik laughed. “We’ll be fine. We have Spezza’s nuts basically in our palms. He can do our dirty work.”

“Mmm, it’s such your style, being the pretty boy who can’t get his hands dirty. Unless it’s a fucking rookie.” Marc was nearly tumbling on his words.

“C’mon, you need water.” Henrik said, putting a hand on Marc’s back.

The two left the clearing, presumably to the north, still chatting about the rookie they killed.

One they were out of ear shot, the two men came out from hiding.

“Those dicks.” Claude growled.

“They didn’t hit me, that’s all that matters.”

“If they hit you, I’ll disembowel them.”

“Clo.” Danny said softly. He put his hands on Claude’s shoulders. “It’s okay. We’ll be okay. Okay?”

Claude turned away from Danny roughly, and Danny held his hands in mid-air for a moment, as though he was blindsided by Claude’s attitude. Danny simply shrugged it off.

“Want to follow them?”

                “Are you _crazy_ Danny?” Claude snorted.

                “We’ll find water…” Danny said, glaring at Claude.

                “And our death sentence.” Claude snapped back.

“Then let’s find somewhere for the night. It’s bound to get cold tonight.”

“Fair enough.” Claude replied, turning away from Danny and walking in an opposite direction.

~~

The temperature began to drop down to 45°F/7°C once the sun had set. Danny began to grab at the passing branches and rocks as his knees became sore. Danny took a wrong step and nearly fell down a hill into a thorny bush. He stopped and put his hands on his knees, his ankle now throbbing. Claude kept on ahead, his sword at ready, determined to find water before the night set in.

“Clo.” Danny called out softly.

“Mm?”

“Let’s just stop for the night. I’m not doing too well.”

“You can get the shit beat out of you and land on your ass on a sab of ice, but you can’t walk through the woods?” Claude snapped.

“Clo,” Danny began softly. “I just rolled my ankle a few feet back.”

Claude stopped walking and turned back to Danny. Claude’s face was a mixture of pain and anger, something Danny had never seen from Claude before, even when Chris had died.

“Okay.” Claude finally said, approaching Danny. Claude wrapped an arm around Danny’s waist and began to guide him to a safer area for the night.

Twenty feet to their right was a small dip in the Earth, shrouded by a thick pine tree. Claude made sure to guide Danny carefully into the dip and lay him down on a thin pile of leaves.

“Which one was it?” Claude asked as he sat down in front of Danny’s feet.

“The right one.”

Claude carefully took off Danny’s shoe and massaged at the swelling ligaments. Danny groaned softly at Claude’s touch, but eventually rocked his head back and began to sleep.

Claude smiled as he watched Danny begin to sleep.

“You know what, Danny?” Claude said softly. “You’re the greatest friend I could ever have. I’m sorry for being an ass sometimes, but I’m thankful that you can always bring me down to Earth.”

Claude carefully put Danny’s shoe back on, and leaned forward to lay a kiss on Danny’s forehead.

About five minutes later, a soft, dinging bell began floating from the sky down to the boys. Claude hopped up, his sword ready to defend Danny.

A silver package with a small parachute fell down to Claude’s feet. Claude took a step back, and waited for a few seconds. The bell stopped, and Claude bent down to pick up the package.

Claude’s fingers fumbled at the package, and he opened it. Inside was a small ankle brace and a note. Claude sat down and picked the note from the package. He unfolded the note in his palms.

_“Follow the creatures for the water. Follow your heart more. –L”_

Claude pondered at the note for a moment, and tucked it into his jacket.

“Danny.” Claude said softly, grabbing Danny’s shoulder to shake him awake. “Lavy sent you an ankle brace.”

“Mmm?” Danny groaned.

Claude pulled off Danny’s shoe, (to which Danny cringed at) and slid the brace onto his foot. Claude tightened the brace down onto Danny’s ankle, and Danny groaned in response.

In the distance, a fanfare played, and the night sky lit up. The two men stood up and looked through a clearing at the sky.

The logo of the NHD was cast upon the cloudy sky, followed by the large text of “THE FALLEN”. A smiling face was cast upon the sky. Kris Versteeg from the Panthers. Then it was the Senator’s rookie. The photo they had of him still had him in his junior hockey jersey. Daniel Sedin’s face was cast next, to which both of the men gasped softly.

The last tribute was a Sharks tribute that Danny had never seen before.

The face of the tribute melted into the night sky, and all was silent once more.

“I’ll wake you up in a few hours so we can switch, okay?” Claude said softly, sitting down on a pile of leaves.

“Yeah, Clo.” Danny replied, laying down into the ditch.

Danny fell right back to sleep, and Claude sat right beside Danny, his sword in his lap.

~~

Claude began to doze off just before midnight.

The temperature was dropping still. Claude leaned over and shook Danny awake again.

“Your turn to do watch. I can’t keep my eyes open.”

“Ugh, fine.” Danny mumbled. Claude laid down in Danny’s leaf pile, and Danny stood up to stretch. He sat back down by the big pine tree and watched Claude fall asleep.

Ten minutes into Danny’s watch, he began to stare down his pack. His stomach was longing for the dried fruit. Danny bit his lip. He had to save it for an emergency. Not now.

“Fuck it.” Danny whispered. He nearly lunged for his pack.

In the distance, a flock of birds were spooked up towards the moon. Danny grabbed his bow and had it ready, his arrow pointing towards the birds. In the distance, he heard two voices laughing in the dark.

“Clo.” Danny said softly, moving over to his sleeping friend. Danny tapped Claude’s leg, and Claude woke up instantly.

“I think we have visitors.” Danny said.

Claude quickly awakened and grabbed his sword. The two men sucked deep into the ditch, awaiting the arrival of footsteps.

Evgeni Malkin and Kris Letang were both covered in blood, and they were limping along the path near Danny and Claude’s ditch.

“I can hit them.” Danny whispered, readying his arrow once more.

“No, asshole.” Claude hissed, pushing Danny’s bow away.

Evgeni and Kris stopped on the trail.

“You hear that?” Kris asked aloud. He was wounded on his leg, and the wound was bright red and oozing.

“Yeah. Is it food?” Evgeni replied, drawing his sword. Evgeni didn’t appear to be hurt, but he was covered in blood, presumably Kris’, or some unlucky rookie’s.

“Maybe. Hold on.” Kris walked the opposite way from the ditch, and observed the wood.

Danny had his chance.

Danny stood up and let an arrow fly at Evgeni. The arrow hit Evgeni’s shoulder and sunk two inches into his flesh. Evgeni roared in pain, and turned towards the ditch. Claude hopped out of his hiding spot and lunged at Evgeni, swinging his sword at Evgeni’s torso. The tip of Claude’s sword sliced open Evgeni’s stomach, leaving a shallow wound. Evgeni stabbed at Claude, and Claude stepped backwards. Claude had taken a wrong step and lost his footing.

Meanwhile, Danny had turned towards Kris, who was now charging at Danny. Danny drew another arrow and let it fly at Kris’ unwounded leg. The arrow sunk into Kris’ tender muscle, and he fell to his knees, screaming in unbelievable pain. Kris threw a knife at Danny, which only hit a nearby tree. Kris grabbed at the arrow and ripped it out of his hamstring, half moaning and half screaming as he threw the arrow at Danny. The soaked arrow went to stick into Danny’s foot, but made its head into the soft ground instead.

Danny took a glance at the mess he had made of Kris’ leg. Danny notched another arrow and aimed it at Kris once more, but Danny closed his eyes, whispered a prayer, and let go of the arrow.

Kris fell backwards onto the soft grass.

Claude swung at Evgeni, who was now on top of him, and Claude brought his foot up into Evgeni’s stomach. Evgeni fell off of Claude, and Claude stood up, grabbing his sword and pointing at the defenceless Evgeni.

“Don’t kill me, too.” Evgeni begged.

Claude lowered his sword an inch. Claude couldn’t kill. He had a human life resting in the palm of his hand—he had the power to end it. He felt the warmth of blood dripping from his nose and onto his lips.

“It’s kill or get killed.” Claude stated, before sinking his sword into Evgeni’s chest.

Claude fell back into the grass just as Danny ran over from Kris.

“Let’s get our shit together. We need to move.” Danny pleaded. Claude struggled to get to his feet and retrieve his sword from Evgeni’s body.

Danny grabbed their two packs, tossing Claude’s pack to him. Danny reached his hand out to Claude, who took hold of Danny’s hand, and the two ran off into the woods, away from the men they had just killed.

**_Boom._ **

**_Boom._ **


	15. Awake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so in love with where the plot is going! I hope you are, too. Thanks for all the love and support!!!! :DDDD

Day Two

Claude woke up in the side of a mountain, under a piece of rock sticking out from the side of the mountain. Claude had his arm over Danny, who was cuddling with his pack. Claude barely remembered what happened seven hours ago. Claude breathed in deeply. His throat was dry.

Claude looked out of the opening of his shelter, and notice that they were maybe twenty or thirty feet (seven to ten meters) up the side of the mountain. Claude looked at the way that had come up—a steep side of the mountain that was covered in moss.

The small pond beside the mountain was occupied by Johnathan Toews and Viktor Stalberg. Claude felt his heart race.

“Clo, don’t even think about it.” Danny groaned, realizing what Claude was looking at.

“What?”

“I’m an ally to Jonny,” Danny began. “We’re good friends. We trained together in the gym.”

“Are you sure?” Claude asked.

“Yeah, positive.”

The men both sat up, but did not stand, due to how low the shelter’s ceiling was. They looked on at the Blackhawks tributes, who were filling their canteens and making themselves food. It had appeared they had killed several rabbits, and were now cooking them over a small fire.

“Look.” Danny said, motioning to the water below. “Look at all the fish.”

Claude’s stomach rumbled. “Let’s go to the other side of the pond. Just to be safe.”

“Fine.” Danny said softly. The men grabbed their things and headed down the mossy ledge. They mostly slid down the ledge, but they made it to the ground in one piece.

Claude nearly ran to the side of the pond and shoved his face into the water. Claude’s shoulders relaxed as he drank the fresh water. He closed his eyes. The water tasted like shit. He could taste the fish shit and dirt. He rubbed his tongue against his teeth and felt the dirt rubbing against his enamel.

He pulled his head up and gasped for air. He pressed his hands into the soppy shoreline, and opened his eyes.

“You okay, Clo?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m okay. Sorry.”

Danny was bent over next to Claude, and was filling up his canteen.

“Yeah…I was thirsty.” Claude looked at Danny, his cheeks hot.

Danny laughed and nudged Claude gently. For a second, it was as if they weren’t in an arena. It was as if they were on the bench during practice, and Danny just watched Claude drink from a water bottle that Danny had unscrewed the cap to. It was as if Claude was covered in water, and the cap was sitting in his lap.

Danny reached to Claude and enveloped him in an embrace. He held Claude not like a lover—but like a son. He held Claude’s head to his breast, and his hand gently rubbed Claude’s back. Claude replied by wrapping his arms around Danny’s midsection. Danny pressed his lips to Claude’s hair. Claude smelled like earth—the fragrance of dirt and grass, bathed in sweat, plagued Danny’s senses. On a normal day, Claude smelled like shit. But Danny pressed his nose into Claude’s greasy hair. Claude smelled beautiful—Claude smelled like life.

“Danny, I’m hungry.”

“Alright, Clo.” Danny said sadly, taking another whiff of Claude. He let go of Claude and Claude kicked off his shoes. He rolled up his pants and waded into the water with his sword. Danny chuckled as he watched Claude stab at the water.

“What?” Claude said, glaring back at Danny.

“You’ll chop the fish in half before anything.” Danny said, grabbing one of his arrows. “Trade me.”

The two switched weapons and Claude began stabbing at the water once more. Danny sat down on the shoreline and watched Jonny and Viktor. The two were discussing strategy by drawing in the sand. Viktor nudged Jonny, and Jonny looked over Danny. Danny forced a wave as Claude kept stabbing at the water.

Jonny stood up from where he sat and gathered his things. Jonny turned to Viktor and said something, and Viktor yelled at him. Jonny wasn’t having his shit, so he turned from Viktor and began the trek around the lake. Eventually Viktor followed.

By the time the Blackhawks tributes were by Danny and Claude’s camp, Claude had cooked three small fish for him and Danny. Jonny walked to Danny, and Danny stood up at attention, waiting for a simple, neutral greeting. But instead, Jonny gave him a tight hug.

“It’s so incredible to see you.” Jonny said quietly to Danny.

“Yeah.” Danny replied. “Yeah. I’m glad you’re okay.”

Claude nibbled on his fish awkwardly. He watched Viktor stumble into the camp, half from exhaustion and half from an apparent leg injury.

“What happened to you?” Claude asked Viktor as Danny and Jonny separated.

“I fell during the bloodbath.” Viktor said softly. Obviously a man of little words.

“We were going to try finding high ground.” Jonny began. “Try searching for Datsyuk and Zetterburg.”

“Bissonette…that little shit.” Viktor hissed.

“We’ll follow you once we finish eating and pack up.” Danny announced.

“Yeah.” Jonny said, letting his agreement linger in the air.

Claude finished his fish and stomped out the fire. He collected his pack and weapon, and waited for Danny to finish his fish.

The group finished eating and began walking towards the mountains where Danny and Claude slept. The four tributes weaved in and out of rocks, and Danny kept losing his footing.

After two hours, the group sat on a small plateau for a break. They were a couple hundred feet up by now, and were overlooking much of the arena. The forest was beautiful from up above. It was carefully dotted with trees and hills, and the large lake at the base of the mountain.

The tributes looked up to the mountain. The tip of the mountain was dusted in snow, and the sides were dotted with trees.

“I’m going to mark this plateau so we can come back here later.” Jonny said confidently, cutting into the rock with his knife. He inscribed the number “88” into the rock and urged the group to continue onward.

The sun was in the afternoon now, and it was shrouded by a thin layer of cloud. Jonny kept climbing up the mountain before Viktor stopped the group on another plateau about two hundred feet up the mountain.

“Jonny, this is getting us nowhere.”

“It’s getting us somewhere! Away from the other tributes! We can live up here until the lot of them dies out!” Jonny snarled.

“I’m going back to the plateau.” Viktor proclaimed, turning away from Jonny.

“You know what?” Jonny began. “Fuck you. Fuck you for never fucking believing in me!”

“I didn’t believe in you?” Viktor shouted, spinning around to face Jonny. “You _ass,_ I have the utmost faith in your ass!”

Silence fell upon the group. Claude adjusted the straps on his pack.

“You’re going power hungry. I knew it would take until now.” Viktor whispered. “I hope Pat is proud of you.”

Jonny lunged at Viktor, striking him in the cheek with a tight fist. Viktor reeled back and swung at Jonny, but Jonny ducked and ran at Viktor’s legs, striking his knees and taking him to the ground.

“Fuck-dammit-you _two!_ ” Danny shouted, grabbing at Jonny’s shoulders and pulling him off of Viktor. “Fucking _quit it!_ ”

Silence fell upon the group again.

The side of the mountain began to tremble.

“Fuck…fuck _fuck fuck run_!” Claude screamed. The snow was sliding down the mountain, and directly towards the group.

The group began high-tailing down the rocks, falling and scraping themselves every ten feet or so. The snow was rushing at them, and was slowly gaining on them.

“Jonny!” Viktor screamed, his voice cracking over the vowels. Jonny looked over his shoulder to watch Viktor get swallowed by the avalanche.

Jonny screamed. It was the blood-curling kind of scream that made Danny and Claude’s arm hairs rise. But they kept running.

They were about twenty feet up whenever they found a ledge. The group stopped at the ledge, the avalanche only about fifty feet behind them.

“I’m so sorry.” Jonny whispered.

Claude looked to his left. There was a small indent in the base of mountain, with a fairly rocky path leading up to it. He grabbed Jonny’s hand and Danny’s hand, and pulled them down the path. The three tumbled to the indent, and they squished themselves into the tight spot just as the snow covered the indent’s opening.

It was silent once more.

Jonny slowly let go of Claude’s hand. Jonny sat on his knees; his lip busted open, and slowly put his face to the ground. He dug his fingers into the lush grass, and pressed his hairline into the dirt.

Jonny screamed again—not out of fear, but out of sheer pain. His entire chest ached. His throat was closing and his lips were covered in his own blood. He ripped his hands from the ground and slammed them down again. He stopped screaming and pressed his nose into the dirt. His body sagged and heaved. Tears soaked the pained earth, and his whimpers filled the air.

Danny moved to Jonny and put his hands on Jonny’s back, moving his fingers in slow, methodical circles. Danny felt the strain of every muscle in Jonny’s back. Danny pushed his thumbs into the thick muscle, and he could feel Jonny begin to calm down.

“I promised his girlfriend I would bring him back.”

“Oh, Jonny…” Danny murmured, laying his palms down on Jonny’s back. Jonny sat up, and examined his dirty hands. Danny hesitated, but then slowly put his arms around Jonny’s midsection.

Claude looked on at the two, slowly pulling his knees to his chest.

“You’ll be okay, Jonny.” Claude said dryly. “You’re strong.”

Jonny looked over Claude, his eyes dull and dark.

“This is all my fault.” Jonny replied. Danny turned his head to Claude and let go of Jonny. “All my fucking fault. They needed something to make the games excited and we were sitting fucking ducks. And now Viktor is gone. Because of _me_.”

“You don’t even know if he’s actually dead.” Claude stated. “There was no cannon! He could be sliding down the snow right now like the asshole he is.”

“Maybe.” Jonny said softly.

The three sat in silence.

The cold from the snow began sinking into their bodies. Jonny leaned forward and tried moving the snow, but snow kept collapsing in on the indent cave.

“Now what?” Claude asked.

“I’m not going to sit around and wait to die.” Jonny declared as he began moving more snow. As he moved the snow, more snow came into the small amount of space that the three men occupied. Jonny was feeling discouraged. He stopped for a moment, then lunged himself into the heavy snow, and began beating the shit of the snow, until he popped out on the other side.

“C’mon!” Jonny called from the other side.

“You first.” Danny said.

“Why me?” Claude replied as he began to shiver.

“You have more life ahead of you.”

“No I don’t.” Claude laughed. “You have a family and you’ll have a lover when you see Lily again.”

Danny’s heart fluttered painfully at the mention of her. Danny sighed, and obliged to Claude’s request. He squeezed through Jonny’s snow-hole (which, had started caving in), and made it to the other side, his body and bow covered in snow.

Not even a minute later, Claude was on the other side of the avalanche. The three men were safely out of their indent. They looked upon the lake. There was a group of four tributes across the lake, pointing at Danny, Claude, and Jonny.

_Shit shit shit shit_

“We have to move. Now.” Claude said swiftly, grabbing Danny’s arm and running towards the trees on the other side of the lake. Claude watched as the four tributes began chasing them.

Jonny froze, his face turned cold.

“No, no…” Jonny stammered.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Danny muttered, gripping Claude’s hand.

“Jonny, let’s go!” Claude screeched, nearly leaping back to grab Jonny. The trio started sprinting away from the other tributes. The tributes were a couple hundred feet behind, but they were gaining on the bruised and battered trio. It was a game of hunter and hunted.

The foot race started becoming close, and the tributes began shouting at the trio.

“Who the fuck is chasing us?” Jonny asked.

Claude looked over his shoulder.

“There’s fucking six of them!”

_“Who?”_

“Shit—Biz, Doan, Staal…” Claude looked forward. “The others are behind them.”

“Keep fucking going!” Danny shouted.

Claude let go of Danny’s hand stopped behind them, grabbing the grenade from his pack.

“Go! _Fucking go!_ ” Claude screamed to Danny and Jonny, who had slowed their pace. The two took off again and Claude pulled the pin from his grenade.

_“Come here, assholes!”_

~

Danny and Jonny kept running. They were getting tired, and Danny’s chest was getting tight. Jonny reached for Danny, and the two linked hands.

“We’re going to be okay, okay?” Jonny told Danny.

Danny pointed at his chest.

Jonny nodded, and pulled Danny behind a fallen tree trunk. It wasn’t ideal, but it would keep them hidden for now.

The explosion from the grenade rocked the Earth.

It was maybe four hundred feet away.

 _“Clo!”_ Danny screamed. He grabbed at his chest, his breath short.

“Shhh!” Jonny exclaimed, putting his hand over Danny’s mouth. Jonny bit his hand to stop sobbing.

Danny stared at the sky.

_No no non on nnonon no_

There was a still silence, followed by four cannons. Danny’s chest heaved.

_Clo...Clo...oh god, Clo..._

The silence felt like it lingered in the air for hours—the calm after the storm. The way the noise had completely disappeared from the air made Danny’s skin crawl. After a flurry of events like that—the avalanche and the foot race—Danny had no idea what to think, let alone do. The silence in the air was a cold stillness that could be compared to being dunked in ice water. Danny didn’t know what to think or say or feel.

Danny put his head back against the tree and took in a shallow breath.

“Fucking assholes.”

Danny jumped up and looked behind where Jonny sat. Claude. Claude was safe and sound and covered in dirt and blood. Danny sprinted to his friend and hugged him tightly, kissing Claude’s forehead through his tears and snot.

“I thought you were dead, Clo.” Danny whispered, holding Claude tighter.

“I’m okay. Those guys aren’t.” Claude replied. “Two survived. I’m not sure who, though.”

“We should keep moving.” Jonny insisted as he wiped his face.

“Yeah, yeah.” Claude answered as he let go of Danny.

The trio was off again into the mid-day wilderness. By afternoon, Danny had found a small doe for dinner, and the trio parked themselves in a clearing three miles from the big lake.

The meat was tough and didn’t cook well over a campfire, but they made due. Jonny sat in silence, occasionally putting his face in his hands and letting the tears come out.

Claude let Danny sleep in his lap for an hour. Jonny kept watch for that time, and he idly kept track of the deaths in the arena with sticks in the dirt. The fire had gone out and they were all aching and tired from the terror of the day.

Eventually, Claude was keeping watch over both Jonny and Danny. Claude stroked Danny’s greasy hair, his fingertips getting tangled in the small knots in his hair.

 _I can do this._ Claude thought. _I can win and get home with my family and Danny. Oh, we’re going to be Philadelphia’s heroes. I can’t wait to drink with Wayne._

Claude forced a smile and worked his fingers through a thicker knot in Danny’s hair. The knot tugged a little too much, and Danny woke up from his nap.

“Shit, Clo.” Danny mumbled, sitting up.

“Sorry,” Claude started. “I wasn’t paying attention. Sorry.”

Danny rolled his head around. “What time is it you think?”

“Probably like…five? Six?” Claude guessed. “I don’t know. But the sun’s heading towards the horizon.”

“You take a nap.” Danny urged. “You’ve been helping out a lot. I’ll just leave Jonny how he is. He’s not doing okay.”

“Alright.” Claude said softly.

“If you need me I’ll be right here.” Danny replied.

“Okay, Danny.” Claude laughed a little.

“What?”

“You’re so protective. You’re like my dad.”

“Oh.” Danny stood up and rubbed his neck. “Go to sleep. You need some rest.”

“Fine, fine, fine.” Claude said, laying down and using his pack as a pillow.

“Sleep well, Clo.” Danny whispered.

Claude smiled and closed his eyes. “Thanks, _mon cher_.” He mumbled, just as he dozed off into his nap.


	16. Paralysis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the love on Tumblr and on here, I am coming out of my hiatus. Thank you all so much. Je t'aime.

Claude felt like he was falling.

Claude couldn’t breathe.

Claude couldn’t move his fingers or his toes, his legs or his arms.

 _Am I dead?_ Claude thought.

He opened his eyes and saw nothing on his chest, nor anything on his legs or arms.

Claude closed his eyes and tried breathing, but his breath remained short.

His eyes suddenly flipped open, and Evgeni was straddling him, admiring a long sword as blood flooded out his stomach. Evgeni met Claude’s gaze, and bent down, his lips brushing against Claude’s ear.

“Oh, hello,” Evgeni whispered, just before he nibbled on Claude’s ear lobe.

Claude’s chest burned. His heart was going to explode.

Evgeni sat up, and Claude saw that his chest was now covered in Evgeni’s blood.

“Does Danny love you?”

_I…don’t…yes? I think._

“I need a definite answer.”

_Yes. He loves me._

“It would’ve been a shame if I had killed you, yeah?”

_But I beat you to the whole ‘killing’ thing, yeah?_

“If I could do it over…it’d go like this.”

Evgeni slowly cut open Claude’s throat. Claude moaned in pain as blood trickled down his skin. Evgeni wrapped his hand around the wound and pressed it hard, before placing the tip of the sword just below Claude’s breastbone.

“Beg.”

_Geno…please don’t do this. I had to kill you, please stop, stop…stop hurting me!_

“Not enough.” Evgeni slowly increased the pressure of the sword onto Claude’s skin, and the tip of the sword began to tear through Claude’s skin, and into his fat, and into his muscle, and into his stomach. Claude wailed and Evgeni tightened his grip on Claude’s throat.

~~~

“Claude?”

Claude sat up suddenly and puked between his legs.

“What the hell, man?” Jonny said. His body tensed, ready for combat.

“It might be the fish from earlier. I don’t know.” Claude wiped his mouth. “I’m sorry.”

“You were twitching really weird,” Jonny said, edging towards Claude. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“Just a nightmare,” Claude murmured.

“Are you sure?” Jonny called out as he stood up and stretched his legs.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Claude wiped his mouth.

“Danny’s asleep, can you take over watch?” Jonny asked, standing up and grabbing his pack.

“Why, where are you going?”

“To look…for water.” Jonny hesitated on his words.

“Stay in the camp, we can find water in the morning. I don’t want to be left with Danny, just in case we do get attacked.”

“Let me go look for water, Claude.” Jonny began walking away.

“Damn it, Jonny, get back here.” Claude groaned, standing up to follow Jonny.

“Go—sit down until I get back, you’ll be fine,” Jonny commanded, his words blending together.

“Get back here, Jonny,” Claude snarled, picking up his sword as he did so.

“Or else what, boy?” Jonny replied, turning on a dime to face Claude.

“Please, Jonny.” Claude looked at the man standing before him. Something happened to him—he was no longer Captain Serious—something had broken within him. “Please stay here.”

“Bringing you and the croissant along was the worst decision I’ve made,” Jonny shouted, pain tugging at his vocal chords.

“You leaving is a much worse decision,” Claude pleaded, lowering his sword. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“It’s man versus man here, Claude. I’m sorry.”

Jonny stepped toward Claude, throwing a knife towards him, which sliced open his arm. Claude stepped at Jonny, his left hand outstretched, and gripped Jonny’s shirt. Claude brought his sword around and went to stab Jonny in the stomach, but missed as Jonny wiggled free and fell onto the ground. Though, Claude’s sword did slice at Jonny’s side, tearing into layers of flesh.

“When I find Viktor, I’ll come back and kill you.”

“S'il vous plait,” Claude said through gritted teeth. Jonny struggled to get up, and he ran off into the night.

Claude rushed to Danny’s side to make sure he was alright and that Jonny didn’t do anything to him. But Danny was sound asleep, and he was healthy and unscathed. Claude stroked Danny’s cheek with the back of his hand and Danny stirred slightly.

The sun was about to come up. Claude stared at the sky, and gently laid himself back onto Danny’s legs.

_Oh, merci…_

 

 

Day 3

 

“Clo, my legs are asleep.”

Claude opened his eyes to the bright morning sky, and to Danny struggling to move his legs.

“Shit, sorry.”

“Where’s Jonny?” Danny asked.

“I don’t know. I’ve been asleep all night,” Claude said as he sat up and gathered his things. Danny stretched out his legs, and looked at Claude.

“Clo, what happened to your arm?” Danny moved to Claude’s side, gently grabbing his arm, which had a long, shallow cut going from his wrist to his elbow.

“I don’t know, it might be from the grenade incident last night,” Claude replied, inspecting the cut. “Oh, who was announced last night?”

“Yeah. Viktor, Marc Staal, Kris, Evgeni, Jason Spezza, Shane Doan—there’s twenty-two of us left,” Danny said softly.

“I thought only two survived the grenade,” Claude said quickly.

“Well, who was all there?”

“Staal, Lundqvist I think, Spezza, Doan, Biz, Datsyuk…and someone else.” Claude nibbled absentmindedly at his thumb.

“Alright.” Danny moved over to Claude.“C’mere.”

Danny brought Claude into a tight embrace, and buried his face into Claude’s hair. A cannon interrupted their moment, causing Claude to almost scream. A flock of birds flew out of a bush and into the sky.

“Let’s move,” Danny said sternly, grabbing his things and standing up.

“We should look for Jonny.”

“Maybe that cannon was him,” Danny said softly. “He only has knives, he’s worthless by himself.”

“Would you want Jonny to say the same thing about you if you left?” Claude scrambled to his feet.

“Claude, what happened last night?” Danny said, pointing at the pile of puke on the ground.

“Danny, that wasn’t me.”

“Then who was it?”

Silence filled the space between Danny and Claude.

“I don’t know.”

Danny looked at Claude and tilted his head. “Come here.”

“Why?”

“Clo, s'il vous plait?” Danny asked.

“Oui, oui.” Claude walked over to Danny, and Danny moved his face close to Claude’s face, but Danny only sniffed his lips.

“Merci…”

“Quoi?”

“Claude, your breath smells like barf.”

“You know I have bad morning breath,” Claude taunted, kissing towards Danny. Danny pushed Claude away gently.

“How did you even fall asleep on me? I was talking to Jonny when you fell asleep on your pack, not on your legs. Jonny volunteered to watch, and I wake up with you on my leg,.” Danny questioned, watching Claude debate his thoughts.

“I don’t know, Danny. But we need to find food before anyone finds us and the puke.”

“Fine.”

The two tributes began walking through the woods. Danny kept his bow at ready, and Claude had his sword out.

“So why’d you push me away when I brought up morning breath?”

“Because your morning breath is awful,” Danny replied.

“And how do we know that, hm?”

“I don’t know, is it from the time we woke up in your bed and you weren’t wearing underwear? Or the time we woke up in the bathroom, and you were drooling on the toilet seat?”

Claude’s face burned hot.

“The…uh, first?”

“Correct, because you rolled over and asked me if I was a ‘ten’ or not.” Danny laughed to himself, and Claude’s face was bright red.

“No I didn’t.”

“Yes you did, and I told you, ‘Claude, no, I’m Danny.’ Then you said, ‘Oh, so you’re like…a nine, right?’”

“You just don’t want to admit that anything gay happened the night before hand.”

“It may have happened, I don’t know.”

“Oh my God, did you really do shit with me when I was drunk?” Claude exclaimed.

“No!” Danny said quietly. “I had a girlfriend then, asshole.”

“Suit yourself,” Claude replied. The two men stopped at a blackberry bush and picked at the fruit until they ate all of the ripened berries. Claude sipped from his canteen and watched Danny idly. Danny was watching a small rabbit cross the path some twenty feet in front of him, and Danny slowly brought an arrow up to his bow, and fired the arrow straight for the rabbit.

The arrow pierced the rabbit’s chest, and it fell over on the path, dead. Claude approached the creature and made haste, gutting the animal and taking the meat. Danny watched the area, making sure no one stepped near Claude.

“I’m going to make a fire, okay?” Claude said softly.

“Yeah, don’t make it smoke a lot, alright?”

“Oui, oui, Danny.”

Claude got the fire started in minutes, and the two men sat on the ground, passing the little bit of rabbit meat to each other as it was slowly cooked. Danny bit off a mouthful of meat, but it was tough and difficult to chew. But he didn’t mind the meat—at least it was food and energy, something he was lacking.

“What do we do with the fire?” Claude asked as he stood up.

“We could throw dirt on it; that’s what I did as a kid,” Danny replied as he watched the small fire die down.

“Alright.” Claude stepped on the fire, effectively breaking down the leftover twigs, before Danny kicked dirt over the flames. The men nodded to each other and continued on through the woods.

The two were quickly approaching an open area, and they stopped talking as soon as they entered the area. It was a flatter area, but there were several bushes around. It looked similar to the space where the cornucopia was, minus the small pond that surrounded it.

“Oh my god, Clo.”

Lying in the middle of the clearing was Jonathan Toews, his throat slit open for the world to see.

~~~

Claude held his head and the clearing began to spin. He looked at Jonny’s lifeless body, and looked at the dried wound on his side. Claude maimed Jonny. He hurt him, and now he was dead.

Claude began counting.

_1\. Evgeni Malkin_

_2\. Eric Staal_

_3\. Jason Spezza_

_4\. Shane Doan_

_5\. Jonathan Toews_

_Onetwothreefourfive—_

Claude cried out, falling to his knees.

_It wasn’t a dream…it wasn’t a dream._

_Jonny…Jonny…_

The world around him became eerily silent, save for his sobs and cries.

“Clo…Clo, get up…Clo, please…we need to leave, his body is fresh, his killer is probably nearby. Clo, please.” Danny cried out.

Danny let his eyes focus on Jonny’s body, and beside Jonny was a small bush of wild marigolds. Danny breathed in sharply.

“Danny, I hurt him…” Claude said softly, pointing at Jonny. “I stabbed him…there, in the side.”

“Clo, I don’t care what you did or didn’t do, we have to go. _Now.”_

Claude got up and began walking towards Jonny, but Danny grabbed for Claude’s hand and tried pulling him back. Claude was shaking—the tears were falling down his cheeks and he was to the point of hysterics.

“Clo!” Danny grabbed Claude’s shoulders and spun him around. “You’re going to be dead like Jonny if we don’t leave, okay?”

Claude moaned in grief and looked back at Jonny. How long did Jonny have to lay there, his throat slit open, until Death kissed him? How much pain did Claude and the Killer put Jonny through? But more importantly, Claude was blurring the lines between dreams and reality. Claude swallowed hard, his head becoming lighter by the second.

Do I want to know?

“Clo, let’s go, please…” Danny begged, his eyes watching the marigolds.

Danny pulled Claude away from the clearing. Claude was being tugged through the blurry scene of a forest that could’ve very easily been the forest that he got lost in as a child, because he had been pretending to be Robin Hood. Or it could’ve been the forest where he parked his car and got lucky for the first time in his life. Or it could’ve been the forest where he ran to after the first big loss in his life, when his coach yelled at him, bumped him down to the third line, and took away his C. It could be anywhere and any time.

But this is the forest where he lost himself.


	17. Queen of Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merci. I love you all. :)

The hours after Jonny’s death were the slowest hours that Daniel Briere had ever experienced in his entire life.

Danny counted each breath that went in and out of his chapped, bloody lips.

Danny closed his eyes and saw Lily’s dimly lit skin. He saw how his fingers explored her body. He saw her lips and kissed them. But he also saw the marigold in the corner—where the phone he used to call his son’s mother had been.

_Daniel Briere…thirteen._

Danny pressed his lips to his palm, swallowing hard on the vomit brewing in his throat.

Danny felt all of Lily again; he felt every kiss, every whimper, and every drip of sweat between their bodies that night. But the only thing Danny could truly feel right now was Claude’s trembling body in his arms.

Claude’s been hysterical for a while now, only stopping to let Danny force water down his throat. They’re hiding in a cluster of trees, and Danny has had to cover Claude’s mouth several times as tributes wandered past the men’s hiding spot. The only way Danny had stopped Claude from going postal was by cooing softly in his ear and rocking him back and forth.

_…thirteen._

Danny buried his face into Claude’s greasy hair, and inhaled.

~~~

“Mon amour.”

Danny was standing, stark naked, in the hotel room.

“What’s happening to me?” Danny asked the woman standing before him.

“Loneliness, heartbreak.” She shrugged, and stepped into the light.

“Lily…I can’t go on.”

“You have Claude. You love him, right?”

“Oui.”

“Then you can do this.” Lily replied, stroking Danny’s face with the back of her hand.

“Is this arena bullshit just a dream?”

“Non, il n'est pas,” Lily whispered, kissing Danny’s lips gently. “Je t’aime, Danny.”

“Je t’aime, aussi, Lily.” Danny put his hands on Lily’s face, and pulled her in deeper, kissing her with all his might and all his passion.

It took a moment to realize that she has dissolved into a deck of cards, and Danny held the Queen of Hearts.

~~~

Danny awoke to the soft dinging of a package falling to his hiding spot. He carefully unlatched Claude from himself, and crawled out of the area. He grabbed the package quickly, and moved back into the hiding area, moving Claude onto himself once more.

Danny opened the package and inside was a bag of granola and a miniature bottle of white wine. A note accompanied the things:

_“You are forgiven. –P Kane”_

Danny buried his face in his hands and bit the fatty part of his palm.

“Danny?” Claude murmured, sitting up on Danny’s legs. “What’s that?”

“Oh, it’s just another gift from Lavy. It’s granola and a little thing of wine.” Danny shoved the granola, wine, and the note into his pack.

Claude’s stomach rumbled. “Can we split it?”

“We just ate a few hours ago, let’s wait. I’ll put it with the dried fruit, okay?”

“Okay.” Claude responded. Claude gently ran his hand up Danny’s arm as Danny stuffed the package into his pack.

“What, Clo?”

“I stabbed Jonny.” Claude admitted.

“Why?”

“He was leaving camp to look for Viktor…he attacked me when I told him to stay,” Claude bit his lip hard. “I thought it was another nightmare, Danny…Danny, I’m sorry!”

“No, Clo,” Danny began. “It’s okay, okay? You’re safe and that’s all that matters.”

The words swam in the humid air.

“And what do you mean by _another_ nightmare?” Danny asked, tilting his head at Claude.

“I had a nightmare that Geno was on top of me, killing me. It was like he was getting off on it, Danny. It felt so real, I couldn’t handle it.”

“Claude, just breathe, okay?” Danny pulled Claude into an embrace. “You can’t go blurring reality and dreams like that, it could get you killed.”

“I’m not going to die over a _dream_ , Danny.”

“Jonny cut your arm pretty damn good, eh?” Danny grabbed Claude’s wrist tightly. “It could’ve been so much worse; I can’t bear to lose you like this.”

Claude tugged his wrist free from Danny and glared at him.

“I’m not crazy.”

“Did I say that, Clo?”

“No.”

“You’re not crazy,” Danny replied instantly. “you’re my best friend.”

Danny smiled, and Claude tried to force himself not to smile. Danny chirped at Claude, and tickled his sides until Claude’s face erupted into joy. The men teased each other in French, their hands tickling at each other. Claude finally nudged at Danny’s forehead with his own forehead, and Danny’s face turned bright red, his lips curling into a cute grin.

“Quoi?” Claude teased, nudging at Danny again.

“Knock it off, Clo!” Danny replied.

“Why should I?”

“Because the entire world is watching.” Danny snapped back.

“Jeeze,” Claude said softly. “Someone is grumpy.”

“I’m not grumpy!” Danny exclaimed.

“That’s right, you’re just old!”

Danny tackled Claude, and held Claude’s arms down onto a labyrinth of tree roots. Claude sighed heavily and rolled his eyes.

“I’m not old, alright?” Danny said sternly. He let the pressure off of Claude’s arms, and Claude sat up. Danny continued to sit on Claude’s legs, with Claude positioned right in front of his face.

“Whatever you say.” Claude smiled, and looked at Danny’s face. It was sagging and losing weight, his cheekbones were about to pierce his beautiful skin. Claude’s smile melted away as Claude brought his hand up to Danny’s face, his thumb rubbing against the scar of Danny’s jaw. Danny pushed Claude’s hand away.

“We should find the lake again.” Danny murmured as he closed his eyes. Claude didn’t respond to Danny, Claude only leaned forward and kissed Danny’s scar.

“Perhaps.” Claude finally replied. Danny opened his eyes. His brown eyes were tired and nearly lifeless. Danny was no longer the man with the boy’s soul; he was no longer the man who had the soul of a young boy that just wants to run out in the sun, and the heart of a young boy that was afraid to fall and skin his knees. Time was taking a toll on his youthful face, and it broke Claude’s heart into pieces.

“Danny, don’t give up. No matter what, don’t give up. Don’t give up on anything.”

“I won’t.” Danny promised.

“Good.”

The two men climbed out of their hiding spot and began walking through the woods once more, chatting idly between themselves about nothing. They had a string of conversation about the leaves on the trees, the thick clouds in the sky. Their voices were tired and rugged, and echoed off the dimly-lit trees around them.

Two cannons were fired off almost simultaneously. A flock of small birds flew up into the sky, and a scream bled through the arena. Danny and Claude quickened their pace.

Overcast began setting into the afternoon sky, and Danny and Claude stopped to eat the granola from their sponsor gift. The men sat down on a fallen tree and breathed in the moderately humid afternoon air. Rain was looming in the distance, and the men were closer to the mountain where the lake lay.

The men came upon the lake, but found that it was only a giant field now.

“ _Qu'est-ce que tabarnac!_ ” Claude exclaimed, walking into the field, the grasses up to his knees.

“Claude, get back here,” Danny snarled, notching an arrow and stepping into the field.

“They _moved_ a giant fucking _body_ of _fucking water_!” Claude shouted, drawing his sword. “Hestie de câlisse de tabarnac!”

_“Claude,”_ Danny spoke softly as thunder rumbled in the distance. “We need to find shelter, Clo.”

“Fine,” Claude mumbled, turning from the field and walking to Danny. Claude met Danny’s stare as lightning struck the middle of field, sending both men to their knees. They pressed their hands to their ears, and Claude watched as Danny came to the sudden realization that he couldn’t see.

Claude’s ears became invaded with a high pitched ringing, and he struggled to get over to Danny and pick him up. He climbed to his feet and felt Danny moan into his arm. But Claude had to run. He ran as hard as he could and look for a safe place to hide.

Claude blinked a figure some twenty feet ahead of him into focus. It was Jose Theodore, covered in a nasty mix of blood and mud. He began waving to Claude frantically, probably yelling something. But all Claude could hear was a ringing.

Jose took a look at Danny and motioned for Claude to follow. Claude shook his head and tried saying _“no”_ but a figure came up behind Jose and held a blade to his neck. Claude didn’t want to see the end of Jose, so he turned and ran once more, pulling Danny closer to him as the rain became heavy.

The ringing in Claude’s ears became painful, but Claude could begin to hear the rain.

The rain continued coming down, and Claude almost got his boot stuck in a pile of mud, but he continued on. His arms were getting sore and all he wanted to do was put Danny down. But he had no idea if Danny was even close to being okay.

Thunder rumbled and lightning lit up the sky. The lightning illuminated the dark, fluffy cloud that plagued the sky. The wind was picking up. Leaves and branches were whipping Claude in the back. Danny wrapped his arms around Claude and began babbling like an infant. At least he was conscious, and that’s all Claude could ask for. Claude’s biceps were aching for release, but he had to keep going and keep Danny safe.

Claude turned away from a tree that collapsed in the middle of the path he was taking, which sent shards of bark and sticks right at Danny. The ground was nothing but mud now. Claude was slipping, and poor Danny was soaking wet and covered in leaves and dirt.

The rain began to let up and the clouds parted; and the eventually made itself into a drizzle. But the thunder continued.

Claude began moving up a small hill, hopefully to find drier ground to lay Danny down on.

“Danny, can you hear me? Can you see?”

“I can hear you, Clo,” Danny said, his voice hollow.

“That’s a start.”

Claude was at the top of the small hill, which was muddy, but not as muddy as the rest of the arena. He knelt down and Danny clutched onto him tighter.

“You’re okay, Danny. I’m setting you down.”

“Okay,” Danny whispered. The fluffy thunder clouds began thinning into an overcast.

Danny reached for Claude’s hand and the two interlocked their dirty fingers. Danny held onto Claude’s hand tightly, and brought the back of Claude’s palm to his lips. Claude smiled and rubbed Danny’s hand with his thumb. The sun peeked through a tree and touched Danny’s face. Danny drew a hesitant breath in as his pupils grew and grabbed the light shining on him.

“You alright?”

“Yeah. The light hurts a little, gives me a headache.”

Claude smiled. “You’ll be alright. I’m going to have some granola, okay?”

“Not all of it.”

“Not all of it, Danny,” Claude replied as he opened Danny’s pack. Danny closed his eyes and sighed deeply. Claude pulled out the granola, and a small piece of paper fell into the grass.

The dinging of a sponsor’s package fell through the humid air and landed behind Claude. Claude slowly pulled his fingers from Danny and grabbed the package. Claude pried at the silver box, and there were only two things inside: a bloody black feather and a bloody Queen of Hearts.

“Danny.”

“Yeah Clo?”

“What the hell is this?” Clause offered the package to Danny, who took the package in his hands.

Danny thumbed at the package before turning it around so he could see the contents.

Danny released all the air from his lungs, and his heart pounded in his ears. The blood fell from his cheeks and Claude looked upon Danny nervously.

“Claude, Lily is dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SORRY FOR MAKING YOU SAD


	18. Native

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 4

When the morning came, the sunlight struck Danny’s eyes violently, sending pain through his temple. His heart did not hurt, though. As much as he may have fallen for Lily, he was sure that someone did this to trigger him, to get him out of his element. But who else knew about the Queen of Hearts? The feathers? The dynasty had ways of knowing—ways of getting information. Especially information to silence a marked man.

Claude had watched Danny get up from under the pine tree where he passed out shortly after the package arrived. It was easily seven in the morning.

“Looks like you’re up,” Claude said coldly.

“I’m sorry I slept all night,…who’s gone?” Danny asked as he rubbed his eyes.

“Seguin and Lucic, Jose Theodore, Datsyuk and Zetterberg, and Niemmi.”

“How many are left?”

“Including us? Fifteen. Less than half.”

Danny tilted his head back and breathed deeply.

A scream pierced the air nearby, shaking the two Philadelphia men.

“Let’s get up, Danny,” Claude urged as he grabbed his pack.

A cannon went off.

“Claude are you okay?” Danny asked as he stood up.

Claude fingered the inside of his bag and pulled out a slip of paper, shoving it in Danny’s face.

_“You are forgiven. –P Kane”_

“Does this ring a fucking bell?”

“Claude, you were going through too much, I didn’t want to dump that on you—“

“You _lied_ to me, Danny,” Claude met Danny’s gaze. “How are you to stay alive when you can’t even tell me this?”

_“Clo…”_

Claude had already turned away from Danny and was walking the opposite way from which the scream came, hoping to avoid some unwelcome guests. Danny sighed and followed Claude.

“Clo, please don’t be mad at me.”

“Why do you always call me Clo when you want something?” Claude snapped, turning around to mock Danny. _“Oh, Clo, get me a beer, would you? Clo, please give me a hug. Oh, Clo, come here and love me because my girlfriend is dead!”_

Danny brought the back of his hand across Claude’s cheek. Claude held his head low and the blood in his face fell. He brought his fingers up to rub the tender skin that Danny hit.

“Fuck you, Claude,” Danny said nervously, drawing in a deep breath. He bit his lip, drawing blood from his own skin.

The air was pregnant with pause as Claude brought his head up, tears brimming in his eyes. Danny could make out the outline of his hand on Claude’s skin, but he felt no remorse for the strike he graced upon Claude’s cheek.

Claude turned away from Danny and began walking again. Danny followed with his bow at ready.

Another cannon went off in the distance.

~~

By early afternoon, Danny and Claude had found a small pond to fill their canteens in and a small apple tree nearby, and they stopped to catch their breath before heading out into the unknown once more. They had not spoken to each other since the argument earlier that morning.

The entire situation would be seen to an outsider as incredibly awkward, but to the men involved, the situation was tense and angry. They wanted nothing to protect each other, but they were too pissed off to function.

Hours and trees passed, and the sun was setting into the sleepy horizon, casting orange across the mountainside and over the wet leaves of the forest. Danny and Claude were still wandering the arena, waiting to be greeted by a gnarly-looking tribute, but they felt so alone in the forest, though in the trees were predators waiting to strike.

The men sat down on cluster of rocks and passed a canteen back and forth.

“Danny, I’m sorry.”

“As you should be.”

“A ‘I forgive you’ would be nice.”

Danny sighed deeply and passed the canteen to Claude.

“I’m hurt, Clo,” Danny began. “I’m really fucking hurt by what you said. I don’t appreciate it.”

Claude put his head into his hands and took in a sharp breath.

“But I’m letting it go,” Danny announced. “because we don’t need that in our lives right now. We need each other, not separation.”

Claude released the air in his lungs and an involuntary smile formed on his lips.

“Thank you.”

“Now let’s find food for the night and a place to stay, yeah?”

“Yeah Clo.”

The tension still existed in the air between them, and though the forgiveness quelled some anger, it was obvious that Danny was still upset. Danny clenched and unclenched his fists, and his veins were thick with blood from a racing heart. Danny breathed in deeply, but he still felt achy and hurt from Lily.

He lied to her.

He wondered what happened. Did she die by her own hand or by the hands of the National Hockey Dynasty Police? He kept convincing himself that she did it herself. He felt like it lessened the pain. It hurt more knowing that someone could hurt her, because Danny and her murder would have something in common; both of them hurt her deeply.

“Danny?”

Danny blinked, and looked ahead. Claude was standing before him, calling for him to catch up. It was getting darker out and Claude couldn’t afford to lose Danny. Claude extended a hand to Danny and Danny began walking once more and passed Claude, ignoring his outstretched hand.

“Mon cher, Danny…” Claude whispered into the night. Claude strode forward to his friend and put an arm around his waist. “Everything will work out, it always does.”

Wind blew through the arena, rustling every leaf on the trees, and sending nature’s debris around the air.

“We should really settle down for the night.” Danny stated as he dodged a stick flying through the air.

And it became so.

~~

Danny and Claude snuggled beside a thick oak tree, shielding themselves from the wind. Danny had taken out the tiny bottle of wine from Patrick Kane and had finished most of it before Claude confiscated it. Danny put his head back against the tree’s trunk, breathing in and out, counting every breath he took. He wanted the wine to make him wasted, but it only made him drunk. He was drinking on the emptiest of stomachs, and he could feel every bubble of wine pass through him.

                “Danny, you okay?” Claude asked as he gently patted Danny’s cheek.

                “Probably not,” Danny replied, swatting at Claude’s hand.

“Oh, Danny,” Claude said softly. “I’m going to stretch my legs, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Danny groaned as he closed his eyes.

Claude walked off for a moment, and left Danny to his own devices. Danny sighed heavily and put his face in his hands. A hand shook Danny violently, and Danny groaned once more.

“Claude, what?”

Danny lifted his head and found himself staring at Zach Parise.

“Where is Claude, Daniel?” Zach growled.

“Why?” Danny said softly as he came to the realization that Dainius Zubrus was standing behind Zach, and Zach had a knife to Danny’s throat.

“Was Claude the bitch that threw a grenade at our friends, Paul and Henrik?” Zach questioned, pressing the knife to Danny’s throat.

“I don’t know.”

“You do know, you bitch.” Zach pressed harder, and Danny gasped for breath. Zach pulled Danny up by the throat, and spun him around. Danny was now his hostage.

“Claude, Claude, Claude?” Zach taunted. “I have a question for you. I also have your lover Danny.”

Claude appeared some twenty feet from Zach, his sword unsheathed and ready. Zach smiled broadly and held his knife in his right hand, pressing it to Danny’s throat.

“Were you the bitch with the grenade?”

“The bitch who took out _three_ of your buddies?”

“And injured two.”

“Exactly. I can do much, much worse to you,” Claude stated, taking a step towards Danny. Zach lifted the knife from Danny’s throat and tapped Danny’s lips with it.

“Don’t come any closer, Claude.”

Claude put his hands up. “Alright, alright. You can have me, but don’t hurt Danny anymore, okay? Danny didn’t do anything to you or your allies.”

“Jonny told us differently.” Zach shook Danny. “Jonny told us that Danny pulled the pin and you threw the grenade. But he may have made that up, since I was on top of him, dissecting his thyroid.”

Claude got chills up his back. “The fact remains that I did the killing, not Danny. Let him go, you can have him later.”

“Go, Dainius.”

“Put the sword down, Claude.” Dainius said as he approached him, his own sword at ready.

Claude nodded, and knelt down, putting the sword on the ground and his hands on his head. Danny was gasping for air and his chest was tightening. Zach loosened his grip on Danny.

Danny closed his eyes and counted his breaths.

_1, 2, 3, 4, 5…_

_“Ready, Danny?”_ Lavy’s voice echoed.

“Zach, I surrender,” Danny whispered, raising his right arm. Zach loosened his grip, and Danny grabbed Zach’s right wrist with his left hand and pulled his arm up to his mouth, biting hard into Zach’s skin. Danny slipped backwards under Zach’s arm, which gave Danny the control of Zach’s hand. And Danny did just that.

Meanwhile, Dainius had been distracted by Danny, and Claude grabbed his sword and lunged at Dainius. The two engaged in a quick sword fight, but it was evident that Dainius was not as agile as Claude, and Claude knocked Dainius’ sword from his own hand. Claude had him only inched from his blade whenever Danny decided to stab Zach in the back. Both Dainius and Claude looked at Zach, and Dainius grabbed his sword and ran for Zach.

Dainius hit Danny in his head, and Danny dropped like a fly. Dainius then pulled the knife from Zach’s back and ran off with him into the forest once more.

“Danny!” Claude screamed as he ran for Danny’s unconscious body. Danny had a small wound on his head, and sticky blood invaded his scalp. Claude grabbed at the edge of his shirt and pressed it into Danny’s head wound. Claude looked around the area cautiously. The wound on Danny’s head began to stop bleeding, and Claude shook Danny violently.

“Danny?”

Danny began to stir, and it was obvious that he was dazed from the blow.

“Are you okay, Claude?”

“Yeah, Danny, I’m okay. Are you okay?”

“I think so,” Danny slurred out.

“We need to head the opposite direction from the Devil tributes, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Can you walk?” Claude asked, gripping Danny’s hands.

“I think so,” Danny said once more, gaining balance on his feet.

Claude led Danny over to their hiding spot and picked up all their gear, and Claude helped Danny down the path. Danny was still pretty dazed, which meant he was dragging his feet across the ground and was kicking up dirt.

~~~

Claude laid Danny down in a new spot about a half mile away, making sure to lay him down onto something soft. Danny sighed heavily as he looked over at Claude.

“I’m sorry for today, Clo.”

“Danny, you have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I have a lot to be sorry for,” Danny bit his lip, and tears welled in his eyes. Claude put an arm around Danny’s shoulder and pulled him in for a tight hug. Claude kissed Danny’s head and stroked his hair gently, his hand catching on the clumps of blood that dried on his fine hair. Danny let himself fall into Claude’s arms.

In the sky, the fanfare played again, and two tributes were shown: Brian Elliot and T.J. Oshie. Claude cried out when the faces were shown, and his heart ached for the fallen. Claude felt Danny tremble in his arms, and Claude cooed to Danny.

The sky became dark again, and everything began falling into place for Claude. As Claude held his brother in his arms, he came to the realization that, no matter what, he would have to do anything and everything for Danny, even if that meant sacrificing himself so that Danny could have the family Claude would never have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merci.


	19. Chassé

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 5

 

At some point, Claude woke Danny up and they switched shifts. This allowed Claude to sleep and Danny kept watch. Danny watched the sun rise, and the sun woke Claude up naturally. Danny and Claude both had burning headaches.

The morning was slow and the air was stuffy, but as the sun grew higher into the sky, the air became lighter and fresher.

The two men wandered through the arena, finding a bush of berries for lunch and having to hide near said bush as Henrik Lundqvist ran past, being pursued by Alex Ovechkin and Braden Holtby. The Capital tributes were chirping at Henrik loudly, and their voices echoed off of the trees. Their voices faded into the distance, and Danny Claude came out of their hiding spot and began down the trail the other way, their weapons at ready.

The voices continued echoing through the forest, but Danny and Claude kept aware of their surroundings. They silently walked back to back, until something stirred in the bushes. Danny took a step forward and raised his bow. He was posed for killing.

“Hey, hey, now,” Henrik Lundqvist said slowly, raising his bloody hands up and stepping out of the bush.

“Did you kill both of them?” Danny called, aiming the arrow at Hernik’s eye.

Henrik’s mouth twitched upward as two cannons went off.

“Is that a good enough answer, Daniel?”

Danny kept his bow trained on Henrik.

“I know you two are aching for food and water. I can help you.”

“We don’t _need_ your help,” Danny said, stepping towards Henrik again.

“ _Don’t_ ,” Henrik began. “I just killed Ovi and Holtby with a stick and a rock; you don’t want to come closer.”

“So you, a rival, are asking for an alliance?” Claude stated.

“Yes, dipshit,” Henrik sneered. “All’s fair in _love_ and war.”

Danny’s arms began to tremble; the blood in his veins became thick. “If I let go of this arrow, you’ll be left for dead and half blind.”

“We both know your heart is much too big.”

“I _killed_ Letang.”

“Do you want a sticker, boy?”

“Days ago I watched you kill a boy who had the same eyes as my son, you gloated about wanting to fucking kill me and you think we’re going to align ourselves with a shit stain like _you?_ ” Danny snarled at Henrik, his voice echoing off the trees.

“Hush now, you don’t want Dainius and Zach to hear you, no?” Henrik grinned and lowered his hands.

“Get rid of him.” Claude snarled.

“I know where there is a hot spring. Fresh water,” Henrik stepped forward and Danny held his breath, the arrow’s head trained to Henrik’s eye. “Water is vital, you two won’t last another couple days, the dehydration is showing on both of your faces.”

“Get out of here,” Danny spoke softly.

“Vad?” Henrik said softly in his native tongue, obviously offended.

“Get the _fuck_ out of here,” Danny said louder.

Henrik drew in a sharp and deep breath, raising his hands again. He simply nodded before meeting Danny’s eyes one last time and turning away from the men. Danny’s hand trembled, and he lowered his bow. His arrow fell to the ground and he let his string fall against the wood of his bow. Claude stepped towards Danny, and grabbed his shirt collar. Claude planted his face directly in front of Danny’s face.

“You _do_ have too much heart,” Claude whispered aggressively to Danny. Danny breathed in Claude’s hot breaths. The arena became silent and Danny’s stomach turned over. Claude released Danny’s shirt and sighed heavily.

“You could’ve killed him.”

“I’ve seen what killing Geno has done to you and I can’t let that happen to me.”

“ _He_ will come back with Dainius and Zach and _kill_ us and you’re worried about your mental health? When we win this, the NSD will give you _everything_ and will hand feed you Xanax while you’re balls deep in—“

Claude released a breath. _Lily._ He was going to say _Lily._

“Let’s find water, Clo.” Danny replied softly.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Danny.”

“I don’t want your pity or apologies,” Danny replied.

“I’m fucking everything up,” Claude admitted. “And I feel awful about it.”

“Claude, just…shut up,” Danny said sharply. “Just shut the fuck up.”

“Danny…” Claude began, but his voice trailed off. “Okay.”

Danny began walking away from Claude, and Claude followed him closely. Danny didn’t even have his bow at ready. Danny had hit rock bottom—his head was cloudy and pained and all he wanted to do was give up. His lover was dead and Claude wasn’t helping at all. He _did_ feel badly about treating Claude like shit but he had no idea what else to do.

And Claude was angry. Angry at himself, at Danny, at Lavy, at Jonny. He just wanted to go home, but he had Danny to protect. He had to protect Danny. He looked over at Danny and began taking bigger strides ahead of him.

Claude began leading Danny through the forest and Danny replied with a deep, heavy sigh. The path ahead was rocky and downhill, making for a difficult journey ahead of the tributes. The glare from the rising sun didn’t help them much either. Claude stepped on a rock, and the rock slipped from its spot, and this sent Claude to the ground.

_“Clo!”_

Claude slid down the hill a few feet, and he hit his face against another rock. He reached out to stop his fall, and was pulled off the rocky path by his wrist.

Claude breathed heavily and wiped the blood off of his face. He looked to his wrist and found himself entangled in a snare. A piece of rope had buried itself into his skin, and Claude tried tugging his wrist out of the snare, but it only buried itself into his skin more.

“D-Danny…”

“Fuck, Clo! Stay still!” Danny moved quickly and carefully over to Claude, and he fell to his knees beside his friend.

“There’s…a knife in my pack…” Claude was trembling, his eyes locked on his wound.

Danny bit his lip and slowly opened Claude’s pack. He found one of Jonny’s knives, and grabbed Claude’s hand.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” Danny said softly.

“Just get it off of me.”

Danny nodded, and put the tip of knife into Claude’s wrist. Claude screamed in pain, and Danny forced the knife under the snare, and pulled hard. The snare popped off of Claude’s wrist, and blood seeped from the wound. Claude moaned loudly, his other hand reaching for his wrist.

“Hold still, Claude.”

_“No…”_

Danny grabbed Claude’s wrist and poured a little bit of water over the wound to clean out the pieces of rope that had been stuck in his skin. Claude gasped for air and Danny brought Claude into his arms. Danny lifted Claude’s hand up above his heart, and blood dripped down Claude’s arm.

“God help me,” Danny whispered as Claude whimpered in pain.

~~

The thing about men is such: they are so desperate to hold on for life but they are so ready to give up their own life. They are interesting and could be examined for billions of years, but they are simply a paradox: they yearn to live but are willing to die.

But who could they possibly want to die for? They could die for a brother, a lover, an enemy, a terrorist, or another man they just met. They crave being the hero, living on past death, being immortalized. But how would they even know if they achieved their goal? They are dead. What if they sacrificed all for nothing? What if so many promises were made in their name, but they all vanished as soon as they took their last breath?

My friend told me a quote some time ago: you die twice, the first time when your heart stops, and the second whenever your name is said for the last time. But the catch is that no one will ever know if they are truly dead.

But how do you know that you have lived? Is it because you have felt every emotion on the spectrum, or that you have felt everything that could tickle the nerves running from your hand to your head? Is it the pounding in your chest of your heart, or is it the discomforting pit in your stomach that seems to open up every time you consider your own mortality?

Or is it because you’ve sacrificed all and expected nothing in return?

~~

Danny buried his lips into Claude’s hair and kissed his scalp frantically.

Everything began slowing down.

But Danny’s prayers were answered by the gentle dinging of a sponsor’s package falling in front of them. Danny carefully laid Claude down and jumped for the package. His trembling fingers forced the package open, revealing a bandage, a baggy of antibiotic ointment, and a note.

Danny thumbed over the note, and read it quickly:

_“God’s speed. –Lavy”_

Danny dropped the note and went for the ointment and the bandage right away. He took Claude’s wrist in his hand gingerly, and squeezed the ointment onto his wound. Claude gasped in pain but relief eased its way into his mind. He sighed deeply and Danny forced a smile as he wrapped the bandage around Claude’s wrist. Danny bowed his head and put Claude’s hand up to his head.

“I’m fucking unstoppable,” Claude joked, grinning through the pain. Claude stood up and shook his wrist gently, and frowned at the fact that the blood had already caked into his skin.

“Dammit, Clo,” Danny laughed, standing up beside his friend.

“Let’s try finding water, I think you dumped the last of it one me.”

“I’m sorry…”

“It’s fine, you did what you had to, okay?”

“Okay.”

Claude turned to Danny and patted his shoulder before taking a stride in front of him. Danny only smiled, and pulled his bow to ready, following closely behind his friend. Claude always walked with a swagger, as though he was always wearing his skates. He rolled his feet like he was rolling his blades over solid ground and he leaned back just enough to make himself look cool.

“You keeping up, old man?”

“Eat shit, Clo.”

And they were off again, the sun growing higher in the sky, reminding them that their struggles were far from over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so close. I love you all. xoxo


	20. Wasted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
>   
> When I'm 32 will I be miserable?  
> With everything around based on principle  
> Will I have a clue, oh wouldn't it be nice  
> to never be alone in this wasted life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Insp. by Wasted - Cartel  
> Major gore warning here***

Later in the afternoon, the men found a small pond and filled their canteens. The water was dirty but it was good enough to hold them over until they could find something better.

Claude was leading Danny through the arena, his wrist still bandaged from earlier. He was feeling better, but he wasn’t 100% yet. As they walked, Claude had to put his hand against a tree to sturdy himself, and his wrist almost collapsed under his weight.

As they walked, Danny’s mind raced through the events of the week, and he felt his throat tug at the thought of Lily being executed. How did she die? Firing squad? Guillotine? Lethal injection? Poison?

Torture?

Danny grasped at his throat involuntarily.

But he began to wonder if it was love or lust that drove his heart to her. But she never had to look his way, or say his name, or start a wild flame in his heart. But she did. And Danny couldn’t fathom living alone—it was as if he was waiting for her all his life. But he wanted her to let his heart go. She died with his heart in her hands.

Danny only smiled whenever Claude tossed his head back to tell him about a random thought from two years ago. Claude’s face had grown scruffy, his curls became untamed. Even now, Claude still had his charm that he possessed at the beginning of the games.

“You know, Danny, there hasn’t been anything exciting lately.”

“ _Quoi?_ ” Danny obviously hadn’t been paying attention.

“Oh, you know,” Claude stopped in his spot. “No one has died lately.”

“ _Claude._ Don’t say that,” Danny snapped. “But there were the Caps tributes this morning.”

“Oh, well…” Claude itched his scalp and drew blood. “Sorry if I reminded someone.”

Suddenly the fanfare played, and Danny pulled Claude’s wrist so that they now stood back-to-back.

_“Good afternoon, tributes.”_

_“It seems that all of you have been treated very well by your sponsors.”_

A dinging package landed twenty feet from the tributes, nesting itself in a branch.

_“Run.”_

The tributes stood dumbfounded, their eyes watching the package. The package had a blinking red light that began blinking faster.

“Clo, it’s a _bomb_.”

“Fuck, it’s a _fucking_ bomb!”

Danny grabbed Claude’s hand and pulled his away from the area, breaking into a wind sprint as the package exploded.

_“But there are some sponsors that are not interested in keeping all of you alive. They have the opportunity to sponsor a bomb for the next hour. May the odds be in your favour.”_

The last few seconds of the fanfare played, and then left the arena in silence.

Claude rotated his wrist around and let his hand slide into Danny’s hand.

“Team?”

“Team.”

They stood still for five minutes, listening to bombs in the distance. Claude felt his head get light and realized that he wasn’t breathing.

A scream pierced the air. No cannon followed.

Danny and Claude’s fingers intertwined and gripped each other tightly.

A package fell behind them, dinging loudly.

They didn’t say a word, they just stepped off together and ran. The bomb exploded and a tree fell behind them. They stopped again. Danny looked at Claude and tried taking deeper, slower breaths. Danny saw the next package before it began to ding.

Danny saw the grey in Lily’s eyes, the way it sparkled in the dim light as he made love to her. But he blinked and saw a sparkly bomb sitting in a bush.

_“Clo!”_

The two ran again.

The two stopped again.

Danny felt his lungs getting tight and he began bending over.

“Danny, stand up straight, put your hands on your hips and take big breaths. Please don’t do this…” Claude pushed Danny’s shoulder up with his weak hand.

Danny looked up at Claude, and a bomb went off nearby, sending debris everywhere, along with red wine. A bomb filled with red wine.

The wine filled Danny’s senses. The colouring of it, the stench of it. He vividly recreated the night he brought his fist down upon Lily’s wine glass. He began to shake, and he screamed loudly.

_“Danny…Danny, please.”_

Danny found himself being led by Claude through the forest again, bombs exploding around them. After minutes of running, they stopped suddenly to catch their breath.

“Danny, are you okay?”

“That was the wine Lily always drank.”

“ _Tabarnak,_ ” Claude panted, pushing a curl behind his ear. “Just take deep breaths, okay? Like this.” Claude pushed his back up straight and put his hands on his hips. The openness of his shoulders allowed him to take deeper breaths and slow down his heart rate. Danny copied him.

Just as they began relaxing, blue smoke exploded in front of them.

~~

Claude wandered around and ran into a tree.

“Danny?”

_“Are you looking for me?”_

Jonny stood in front of him, his skin pale and his eyes sunken into his head.

“Jonny…no…” Claude stepped back from him.

 _“Yes, Clo.”_ Jonny stepped closer to him. _“You should do it this time.”_

“Jonny, no.”

Jonny offered Claude his knife.

 _“Jonny, please!”_ Claude screamed.

 _“Someone has to, right?”_ Jonny smiled and brought the knife up to his throat. He sliced his own throat open and moaned loudly.

 _“Fucking disappointment!”_ Lavy screamed in Claude’s ear. _“Piece of shit, stupid boy! Can’t skate for shit or play for shit. You will never win.”_

“Lavy…” Claude muttered, his lips trembling. He collapsed to his knees and began sobbing like a child.

_“Tut, tut.”_

Claude screamed and put his hands over his ears as Evgeni stepped towards him.

_“Get your hands off your head.”_

_“I’m glad Danny is with you, he’s the only reason why your heart still beats!”_

Claude closed his eyes.

_“Get your hands off your head, shit head.”_

Claude looked up at Evgeni, his guts hanging out of his stomach wound.

_“How does it feel to be dying?”_

“This isn’t the end,” Claude stated.

 _“Oh, love,”_ Evgeni laughed, and blood dribbled from his lips.

Claude grabbed at his chest, his heart racing.

_“You’re going to die out here. Your heart will explode and you’re gonna die.”_

“No!” Claude screamed. “Wanna know why, asshat?”

Evgeni snarled at Claude, ready to pounce.

“You are not my reaper!”

~~

The smoke stung Danny’s eyes and caused tears to stream down his face. He searched the smoke for Claude but saw no movement.

_“Daddy?”_

Danny turned to his left to see one of his sons standing in his pajamas and holding his blanket.

“You need to be in bed, you can’t see Daddy like this, okay?”

_“Is Daddy weak?”_

Danny took a step towards his son and dropped to his knees.

“Daddy will get through this and Daddy will see you soon, okay?” He reached for his son but the child took a step back. Danny’s hand slinked back to his body and the tears rushed down his face.

_“They take care of me.”_

A guard placed a hand on the child’s shoulder and pulled him into the blue smoke. Danny screamed for his son and leapt for him, but the child was gone.

_“Perhaps this is why we never worked.”_

“Lily…”

Danny turned around to see Lily standing in his shirt.

_“You’re a shitty father.”_

“No,” Danny whispered.

Lily waltzed through the smoke and it billowed down her beautiful, tan skin and left a long wedding dress in its wake.

Danny punched the ground and groaned in pain.

_“You’re a piece of shit.”_

“I _love_ you!” Danny screamed and the tears fell down his face as Lily walked around him.

_“Incompetent.”_

_“Lily…”_ Danny cried out.

She knelt down in front of him, her veil falling over her face.

_“I was never yours to play.”_

Her screams filled Danny’s ears and she stood up to walk around him again.

Danny put his hands over his ears and screamed as loud as he could to drown the awful sound out. But the screams eventually ended and left him in silence.

 _“Claude?”_ He asked as he stood. _“Where are you?”_

_“Daddy!”_

The blood-curdling noise of children screaming hit the air and Danny felt his chest nearly collapse. He screamed back to the children and began running in circles. He screamed his son’s names and kept reaching for the air, but the screams began overlapping over each other and blended into a terrifying block of noise that pained Danny’s ears.

Danny grabbed at his chest and felt his lungs tighten. The screams were getting worse by the second and he couldn’t do it anymore. He just couldn’t. He begged and begged for the screams to end but they kept getting louder and more terrifying.

 _“Please stop!”_ Danny pleaded, grabbing for the air as his chest got tighter.

The screams died down but still hung in the air.

_“Why aren’t you protecting me?”_

Danny looked up and Claude was standing before him , tears on his cheek.

“Clo, are you okay?” Danny stood up and Claude stepped back.

_“How could you.”_

“Clo, what happened…”

Claude then opened his mouth and the most painful scream graced Danny’s ears. Danny screamed back at leapt at Claude, but Danny only found darkness when his head struck a tree.


	21. Un Oiseau de Proie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gore warning***  
> Hold on tightly.

The arena lay in ruin, and tributes were scattered around the arena. Claude found himself sitting at the base of a large pine tree watching for Danny to appear from behind a tree somewhere. Claude had escaped his hallucination and was proud that he had only puked once from the event.

He couldn’t imagine what Danny’s hallucination had.

After an hour of light had been wasted by Claude just sitting under the tree, he decided to move and locate Danny.

He wandered the general area, trying to locate the last general location—the red wine. He could smell the wine but couldn’t locate any other reference points from earlier. He kicked at the displaced rocks and dirt around him absent-mindedly until something silver caught his eye.

_A broken arrow._

Claude drew his sword and began circling the area. He checked under every rock and bush and pine tree and ditch as the sun began falling to the horizon. In a last ditch effort, Claude began calling for Danny. While it was a stupid idea, it was better than nothing.

 _“Danny!”_ He screamed. He waited. Nothing. Walk around. Repeat.

He found Danny curled up in a ditch with his bow, arrows, and pack after ten minutes.

“Danny, what happened?”

Danny turned his head to Claude and breathed slowly. Claude reached for Danny’s forehead, which was graced with a nasty wound. Danny pulled away from Claude.

“The blue smoke.”

“Oh,” Claude responded.

Claude picked Danny up to his feet and Danny took a step away from him.

“I saw Jonny,” Claude announced. Danny stopped walking. “I also saw Lavy and Malkin.”

“Okay,” Danny acknowledged.

“Jonny slit his throat for me.”

“Claude, please.”

“Who did you see, Danny?”

Danny breathed in deeply and turned to Claude.

“ _You,_ ” Danny said sharply. “You and Lily and my sons and all of you were screaming as though someone was stabbing you repeatedly.”

Danny turned away from Claude and wiped his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Danny. I didn’t know…”

“You knew, you just wanted to hear it from me,” Danny snapped. Claude paused for a moment and walked up behind Danny and tapped his shoulder. When Danny turned, Claude was offering him water.

“It tastes like ass but you need it,” Claude stated. “You’re pale and cranky and those two just don’t mix.”

Danny laughed and took the canteen and drank a little water—just enough to hold him over for a while. He handed the canteen back and Claude gestured to him as though he were saying “keep it”. Danny simply shrugged and Claude began leading him through the forest.

Though the tributes were sore, they knew moving was one of the best strategies. If they sat for too long they would become birds of prey and be gobbled up by whatever was nearby. Occasionally, though, Claude made sure to stop so Danny could catch his breath and drink more water.

Danny was physically healthy, but his head was spinning in circles, aching for release. He continually grabbed for Claude, not because he was light headed but because he had to make sure Claude— _his_ Claude—was real.

“Clo?” Danny asked, grabbing Claude’s hand.

“Yeah?”

“You’re really you, right?”

“Of course,” Claude smiled and reached for Danny. He placed his thumb on Danny’s chin gently. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I needed to double check,” Danny whispered. After a beat, Danny went in for the hug, and Claude replied with a tight hug.

“Danny, I love you, alright? Nothing is stopping us,” Claude said, burying his face into Danny’s neck.

“I love you too, Clo.” Danny breathed in Claude’s greasy hair and made note of each scent that came off of him again. But the moment was interrupted by Claude’s stomach growling.

“Well _shit,_ ” Claude laughed, backing up so he left Danny with the tips of their fingers meeting.

“Now what?”

“Wanna find some dinner?”

Danny shrugged. “Don’t we have some food?”

Claude paused for a moment and grabbed his pack. It was empty of any food stuffs. Danny simply sighed and put it bow at ready and walked, searching the growing shadows for prey.

“Hey, Danny,” Claude said loudly.

“What, Clo?” Danny whispered softly. “You’re going to scare off dinner.”

“I’m a fine hunter, I know what I’m doing,” Claude laughed.

Claude walked forward, and looked over his shoulder to grin at Danny. Danny rolled his eyes and followed Claude now. Danny took small, quiet steps, and Claude took long strides.

“Claude, get back here!” Danny insisted.

Claude smiled back at Danny. “I’ll be fine.”

Claude took another big step and stopped, pulling his sword out and ready. The branches rustled as wind blew through the area. Claude looked at Danny and nodded solidly, stepping forward once more.

 _“Clo,”_ Danny repeated.

Claude hushed Danny and took another solid step, which effectively broke a branch that lay in the path. The noise scared a small doe some five feet in front of Claude, and she ran off.

“Shit,” Claude seethed. He relaxed his body and began to walk again, obviously disappointed.

“You’re fine, Clo. Let’s find shelter, okay?”

 _“Whatever,”_ Claude ignored Danny and walked off.

“Dammit, Clo!”

“I can handle myself Da—“

Claude had the wind knocked out of him as Dainius Zubrus tackled him to the dirt. Dainius stuck his knife into Claude’s stomach and turned the blade once.

“You bitch!” Danny screamed as he fired two arrows into Dainius’ shoulder. Dainius fell over and pulled the arrows out as Danny tried pulling Claude to his feet. But Zach Parise pulled Danny from Claude and wrapped his hands around his throat.

Danny coughed and grabbed at Zach’s fingers as he watched Dainius pull his knife from Claude’s stomach and aim for the heart. Danny tried lifting his foot up to kick Zach in the crotch, but he missed once. He kicked again and Zach released him, and Danny fell to the ground. But as Danny tried standing, his vision went black and he toppled over.

Dainius jabbed his knife up under Claude’s breast bone and stuck his knife deep into Claude’s heart. Claude grabbed at Dainius’ arm but his hands went limp. Dainius turned the blade and scraped against Claude’s bone. Claude reached up again but Dainius wiggled the blade and pierced Claude’s lung.

He proudly ripped the blade from Claude’s chest and stood up beside Zach.

“No need to wait around,” Zach announced. “Ginger’s dead and the old guy will follow if he hasn’t already.”

“Let’s find Henrik,” Danius replied.

“…then whatever Richards and Carter left for us.” Zach turned on his heel and left Danny and Claude.

Danny moved from his feigned death and moved to Claude, tears coming down his face. Claude fingered at his wounds and smiled half-heartedly as tears fell from his eyes as well. Danny gasped at Claude’s wounds and began to pray.

“No need,” Claude recited. “God has a plan for me, you know that.”

“I thought I would leave here with you,” Danny stammered. “I always saw us leaving together.”

“It’s okay,” Claude said sympathetically, drawing in a deep breath. He then coughed blood up onto Danny.

Danny pulled Claude’s hands from his wounds and kissed his warm flesh.

“I’m here.”

“I know you are, Danny.” Claude closed his eyes slowly. _“Je t’aime, mon cher.”_

 _“Moi aussi…je t’aime.”_ Danny replied. After a moment, Danny kissed Claude’s forehead and his cheek. He placed his forehead against Claude’s and his tears dripped onto Claude’s cheeks.

 _“Ne vous inquiétez pas pour moi,”_ Claude pleaded as he moved his nose against Danny’s nose. _“Vous êtes le héros maintenant.”_

 _“Non…pas moi…”_ Danny replied quickly as he lifted his head.

_“Oui.”_

Danny took a glimpse at Claude’s wounds, which were slowly bleeding out.

But Claude kept looking at Danny.

“You’re a beaut, Danny,” Claude laughed and coughed again.

“Clo…”

“Say my name again.”

“Clo?”

“I love it,” Claude smiled and reached for Danny again. Danny stroked Claude’s head slowly, blood getting combed into his hair. Claude kept smiling and looking at Danny. He motioned for Danny to come closer, and Claude kissed his cheek slowly. Claude reached up for Danny’s head and pulled him down farther so that he could whisper in his ear.

“Danny?”

 _“Oui?_ ”

“I will wait for you.”


	22. Recapitulation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
>   
>  recapitulation  
>  _noun_  
>  a part of a movement (especially one in sonata form) in which themes from the exposition are restated.

The concept of death—it’s intangible and horrifying, and we will never be prepared with it until it stares us in the face and breathes coldly down our throats. And when it will choose us, we have no choice but to accept. And when we accept, it will not be death’s job to assign us to where our souls will travel—be it heaven or hell.

Take me somewhere swell.

~

He laid in the soft grass, covered in blood. The cool air of the night swept across the forest, and touched his face. It took him a moment to realise what had happened, what it meant, and what was next. He breathed slowly, and forced himself up off his back. He took two steps from his friend, and a cannon rocked through the forest, sending fierce vibrations down his spine, that pushed him to the ground.

He stared at his hands as he gagged and wailed in the moonlight.

_“He’s gone, he’s really gone, he’s dead…”_

_“Clo…”_

Danny closed his eyes and saw Claude’s curls poking out from under his helmet as he had watched Claude skate for the first time with the team.

_“That’s the kid who was selected 22 nd overall. He plays like he was the last pick.”_

Claude had missed an easy pass and took two strides to catch up with the forward that was marking him. And then Claude groaned loudly as that same forward netted a break-away goal down the right side.

 _“He’ll be something.”_ Danny stated.

Everything collapsed in on his chest at once—he felt an ache swell in in throat and his heart began to hurt. He grabbed for his chest and wailed. He fell towards Claude pathetically, and gripped his hand tightly. He bent over Claude’s body and put his forehead onto Claude’s stomach.

He was still warm.

The forest spun around them, but Danny managed himself to his feet and began to wander. He wandered for some time, the moon rising above him and his legs becoming weak. The fanfare echoed through the trees, and Danny gazed up to the sky.

Alex Ovechkin, Braden Holtby, Roberto Luongo, Mike Fisher, and Claude Giroux.

Claude’s smile, complete with his one missing tooth, made Danny smile faintly through his tears. It was nice to see Claude as himself in death, rather than anything the NSD made him out to be. He was Danny’s Claude in his death. He just hoped he would still be Claude whenever Danny saw him once more.

Danny stared up at the sky. Claude was only twenty-four. Far too young to die.

The broadcast cut out and ended for the night.

A shuffling behind Danny caused him to panic. He ducked down into a bush and reached for his back. Somehow, he had picked up Claude’s pack. Danny fingered inside the bag and grabbed one of his knives, throwing it at whoever was coming to him. He heard the person curse and the knife fell to Danny’s feet. Pekka Rinne stepped into the moonlight.

“It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you.” Pekka insisted as he moved closer to Danny, his hands up. “Are you bleeding from your leg?”

“I was.”

“Let’s clean it out.”

“I’ll be okay, don’t waste water.”

“Bullshit.” Pekka said, being careful in each motion he took. Danny had his hand fastened tightly around a knife.

“What game are you playing?” Danny hissed at Pekka.

“The one of the Stanley variety.” Pekka laughed and sat in front of Danny. Danny gripped his knife tighter.

“Don’t play coy with me.”

“We both lost our ally tonight, stop being a fuckass and listen to me.” Pekka said sternly. “We’re both capable men, we can band together and fuck up the Devils, sound like a plan?”

“How do you know about that?”

“Because Biz was romping around with Parise and Zubrus, and Biz killed Mike. They were looking for you two all day.”

The air became pregnant with silence, and Danny felt his chest and his eyes become heavy.

“I could’ve saved him.”

“I could’ve saved Mike. But you know how that works.” Pekka muttered as he stood and motioned for Danny to follow him. Danny, still wary of Pekka, kept his knife at ready and followed.

The two walked in silence for about a half mile, when Pekka moved some brush and slid down into a nearly underground cavern. Danny hesitantly followed down the slope, but he came upon the cavern, cool and roomy. He smiled a little at the sight. Pekka started a small fire for light, and laid down on the floor.

Danny just sat in silence, his knife at ready, and watched Pekka’s breaths until his eye lids shut.

~~

“Hey, champ.”

Danny was in the Wells Fargo Center, standing in his uniform at centre ice as Claude Giroux walked towards him in a grey suit, his hands in his pockets.

“You gotta let go of me. I’m in a better place and you can’t do shit about it.” Claude said bluntly.

“I wish I could bring you back.”

“Don’t we all.”

Danny simply stood there, holding his hockey stick awkwardly.

Claude walked up to Danny, and smiled at him. “Stay safe, alright?”

“I will.” Danny assured.

“Are you sure? Because this nightmare is about to start.” Claude smiled slightly.

Claude launched himself at Danny and tackled him to the ice. Danny’s head bounced off of the ice violently, and Danny closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, Dainius Zubrus was on top of him. Dainius cackled and let the tip of his knife rest on Danny’s lip.

“C’mon pretty boy. Squirm.” Dainius tilted his head as Danny gasped for air. Dainius drew his hand back, and brought his knife down on Danny’s face.

~~

Danny woke up in a cold sweat, and Pekka was already packing up for the day. Shreds of light illuminated the cave faintly as Danny sat up, his head being rocked by a migraine.

 _“Shit.”_ Danny got up and packed all of his belongings up hap-hazardly, and Pekka stood back and laughed.

“Danny. Relax. It’s _fine_ ,” Pekka said calmly. “Let’s go get something for the day, shall we?”

The two men climbed out of the cavern, and began to wander the woods. The day was cool, similar to an autumn day. As Pekka walked through the forest, his strides were relaxed and fluid. Danny kept back from Pekka, his bow ready for an attack. Pekka stopped by a tree and slowly touched the bark, as if he were communicating through the forest.

“Come on, aren’t you hungry?”

“Where are we going?” Danny replied quickly.

“I can show you my spring,” Pekka offered as he turned to Danny. “It’s lush with wildlife and some edible plants.”

“And how can I trust you?” Danny asked coldly.

“I didn’t kill you last night, and you didn’t kill me.” Pekka turned over his left shoulder and kept walking.

After walking for a quarter of a mile, the smell captivated Danny. The air smelled fresh and clean. They were close to the mountain at this point. Pekka pushed a thick section of brush out of the way, through a clearing, over a couple dead trees, and they emerged by the spring. But they were not the only ones there.

Sitting by the spring was Dainius Zubrus himself, along with Zach Parise. Danny lifted his bow, but Pekka held up a hand for him to stop. Danny took a step back, his bow still ready.

“Oh, Daniel. I’m glad our friend brought you here,” Zach announced as he stood up. Zach turned to Pekka and frowned. “You’ve done your job.”

Pekka nodded and smiled, but Zach kept looking directly at Pekka. An arrow flew from high into the trees and right into Pekka’s eye. Pekka fell back into the grass with a thud.

“You are bastards,” Danny growled.

“We are clever bastards, aren’t we?” Zach extended his hands out to either side of himself, and grinned. A cannon went off.

Danny assessed his situation. There was at least one person above him in the trees, Dainius was obviously nursing his side, which seemed to still be bleeding through the bandages, and Zach was perfectly healthy. His options were to send an arrow through Zach’s skull and let Dainius potentially maul him, or duel the two in hand-to-hand combat.

He chose the first.

Danny quickly sent an arrow at Zach, which hit Zach’s shoulder. Zach dropped to his knees and put a hand to his shoulder. Dainius limped towards Danny as Danny pulled out another arrow. His shaky hands aimed, but Danny felt pain shoot up his leg. He looked down and found Zach had stabbed him in the thigh with the arrow that Danny had used to maim Zach. Danny shoot the arrow towards Dainius but missed.

Dainius charged at Danny, and Danny kicked Zach’s face forcefully. Zach fell back, but Dainius had already caught up to Danny. Dainius slashed at Danny, and slit open his other leg. Danny reached into his pack for a throwing knife and threw it at Dainius. Danny had not thrown the knife hard enough, and Dainius simply caught the knife in his hand. Dainius kicked Danny in the stomach, sending him to the ground. Danny’s bow fell from his hand and Dainius kicked it away.

“You’re so _angry_ , aren’t you?” Zach tutted as he managed to stand, blood dripping from his lips. “My friend killed your friend. It wasn’t… _my_ fault.”

Danny strung an arrow into his bow with a shaky hand, and fired it up at Zach. It hit Zach’s arm, and Dainius responded with another kick to Danny’s side. Danny screamed, and his hand went to his ribs. Danny could feel the sensitivity of the bones poking at him from the inside out.

“You’re a little bitch even here.” Zach taunted. “You shouldn’t have volunteered for Cooter—or whatever the fuck his name is. Fucking rookies.”

“Dipshit.” Dainius said as he kicked Danny’s broken ribs. Danny gasped in pain, and tried scooting away once more. Dainius grabbed Danny’s arm, and pulled him up. Danny forced his legs to carry his weight as Dainius looked him in the eye. Dainius brought his knife up and stroked Danny’s jawline with it.

“So precious, isn’t he?” Dainius said.

“Oh so very. And isn’t he pretty?” Zach added.

Danny had enough. He spit into Dainius’ face. But this was the wrong decision. Dainius slugged Danny in the face, and Danny felt his face go numb.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Danny-boy.” Dainius whispered sarcastically. Dainius took his knife and shoved it under Danny’s ribs. Dainius punctured Danny’s lung, and his lung filled with blood. Danny began to cough blood into Dainius’ face, and Dainius simply dropped him onto the ground. Danny let himself fall onto his back, and he coughed blood onto the bright green, spring grass.

His vision became cloudy as he heard the giggles of children.

Dainius punched Danny in the face again.

“There’s no way out now.” Dainius said confidently.

“Make sure. Last time he feigned. Make it real.” Zach replied as he inspected Danny’s body.

Dainius looked at Danny pitifully and put his foot over Danny’s heart. Danny smiled faintly and breathed out a single word to Dainius.

_“Please.”_

Dainius met Danny’s gaze, but removed his shoe from Danny’s chest.

“He’ll choke on his own blood.”

“Good.”

The two Devils tributes began to walk out of the clearing, but called for another member of their group.

_“Henrik?”_

Henrik hopped down from the tree, his own bow at his side.

“Why didn’t you fucking help us?”

“I couldn’t get a clear shot, eat shit.”

Danny heard Zach groan loudly.

“I’m done with you, pretty boy.”

_“Dainius, fucking let go of me.”_

“Bring him along, we can bait the Kings with him.”

And with that, Danny was alone beside the spring. Danny reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a wrinkled photo that had been folded over multiple times.

In the photo, he stood, arms open and smile wide, behind his three sons, all bearing smiles and hopeful eyes. Danny let his fingers trace over their smiles. In the back of his mind, he wished that he would’ve held his sons closer the last time he saw them. He loved his sons more than anything in the world, and he desperately wanted to see them again. He just wanted to hear their laughter and let them beat him at video games and mini sticks. He wanted to hear them cry out daddy at the top of their lungs.

Danny looked up from the photo and blinked as tears rolled down his cheeks.

The last thing he saw was a blue bird fly over him, tweeting a soft song.


	23. Coda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  

Danny sat in a white room, on a white bench, while wearing a white suit.

“Hello, stranger.” He heard a familiar voice mutter.

Danny looked up at Claude, who wore the same suit as he did. Claude sat down on the bench, and put his hand on Danny’s thigh.

“Thank you for being there. Until the end.” Claude said softly.

“I’m your friend. How could I not?” Danny replied.

Claude smiled and put his arms around Danny. Danny felt the tears well up in his throat.

“Dammit, Danny, don’t cry,” Claude said. “Cause I’ll cry, too.”

They let go of each other and slowly moved apart. But Danny put his hand on top of Claude’s as the room filled with silence. Claude gently gripped Danny’s thigh, and Danny gripped Claude’s hand.

“I was waiting for you.” Claude whispered.

“I’m sorry…” Danny replied.

“No, it’s fine. I begged them not to take me until you came. They kept calling my name but I told them to fuck off.” Claude laughed, and Danny smiled slightly.

“How long have you been here?”

“Feels like weeks. How long was it?”

Danny didn’t want to reply. He sat silently as Claude stared at him.

_“Danny.”_

“A day, not even.”

 _“Oh, mon cher…”_ Claude said softly. “Who?”

“Zach and Danius. They had Pekka find me and trick me into trusting him. Pekka took me to a hot spring and they were there.”

“Danny, I’m sorry,” Claude said softly. “I should’ve been there for you—I should’ve—“

Claude put his forehead on Danny’s shoulder, and Danny put an arm around Claude.

“I never thought dying would be like this, really.” Claude’s voice broke as he forced out the words. “No white light, nothing. Just death collecting me. But I suppose this is heaven, right? Does this mean I have to repent?”

“Did you ever pay attention in school, Clo?”

“I mean…yeah, sometimes. But I graduated, so I have a general understanding about this thing.” Claude laughed softly. “I’m just not sure what’s next.”

“Do we wait?” Danny asked softly.

_“Oui.”_

“Briere, Daniel. Giroux, Claude.” A monotone voice said over an invisible P.A. system, moments after Claude had replied.

Claude sat up, and grabbed Danny’s hand tightly. Danny glanced down at their hands, their knuckles whiter than snow. They looked at each other one more time, both nearing tears. But it was now Danny who collected himself and spoke first.

“Team?” Danny whispered.

“Team.” Claude replied almost instantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Acknowledgements:  
> Here's to Mariya and Ben for all the proof reading and writer's block breaking  
> Here's to Trevor, for reading every chapter, no matter how much he hated it, and supporting me until the very end of the work.  
> And to Maddi for fangirling over every word.  
> Here's to all my readers for enjoying my story and staying with me through the hiatus(es).  
> Thank you all for you love and dedication! Au revoir.  
> 
> 
>  


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